


Blindspot

by FallenRiotforSweetRevenge



Category: The Nightmare Before Christmas (1993)
Genre: Afterlife, Alternate Universe - 2000s, Amnesia, Angst with a Happy Ending, Everyone Needs A Hug, Everyone is Dead, F/M, Magic, Magic and Science, Original Character(s), Spells & Enchantments
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-09
Updated: 2019-04-23
Packaged: 2019-05-04 08:00:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 10
Words: 35,898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14588562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FallenRiotforSweetRevenge/pseuds/FallenRiotforSweetRevenge
Summary: Maris has been a citizen of Halloween Town for three years. She was an accomplished sorceress in her lifetime, and she has continued her legacy in her afterlife. Unlike most citizens of Halloween Town, Maris remembers her past life, though she has been rather secretive about its contents. When a few citizens take notice of Maris's strange behavior shortly after a new arrival comes to town, they become curious and decide to try to unravel the mystery of Maris Evans.





	1. Chapter 1

October 31, 2007 The pale moonlight slashed through the paned glass windows, conveniently collecting in beams to illuminate the books, countless leaves of paper, and inkwell that cluttered the oak desk.The lighting was poor but Maris’s sharp vision could make it work; a perk of being dead. The smell of coffee lingered in the air as the overworked coffee machine tried to keep her veins pumped with the caffeine infused goodness.

It was about half past three in the morning and Maris still had much to do until opening up for business at eight o’clock sharp. Her business was doing well as she had run low on not only potions, but also the necessary items needed to recreate her inventory. Countless after hours were dedicated only to locating new supplies. Another surplus of overtime was set aside to brewing. She had about seven more batches of different potions to go, multiply that by the time needed to make them and she would be done by 7:25 in the morning, leaving her with not even a half hour to sleep before she would begin the process of opening up for the day. Maris wanted to punch the person who had started the rumors that we may sleep once we are dead.

It felt like five eternities had passed by the time Maris bottled and shelved the last of the fresh potions.She eyed the dirty cauldron in dire need of a good scrub with distaste. It could wait. Besides, it was now 7:35, only twenty minutes until she would have to open up shop.

Maris collapsed in a pile of bony limbs with a sigh of relief. She rubbed her aching skull in anguish over how tight her usual chignon pulled her hair. She didn’t really feel like dismantling the knot resting on her neck for it was very useful in keeping her waist length hair out of the way. Then again, her scalp was sore and there was a bun sized pain at the back of her neck when she laid on her back. Useful or not, Maris decided that her comfort was more important than keeping her hair neat at the moment.  
Locks cascaded down her back, crossed shoulders, and twisted along arms as the band released the deep brown feathers of her hair. A sigh of relief escaped her thin pale lips as she massaged her aching roots. Almost unconsciously, her tired eyes drooped shut and she felt the weight of the night’s work crash over her.

************************************************

“It’s been much too long since we’ve been able to get away.” the man said. Maris agreed with a smile, following his steps. The grand ballroom was filled with a symphony of virtuosos sawing away on their stringed pride and joys, their fingers gliding over the finger boards as their sweet cadences crashed over the dancers, composing a waltz. Waiters with cocktail trays weaved through the nearby tables of people too engrossed in conversation to be pulled like marionettes to the dance floor. Maris and her partner on the other hand, could not resist the music. They left the champagne flutes and hors d’oeuvres behind and wandered on invisible strings as their puppet master guided them to the dance floor where couples spun around to the rhythm.

“I agree.” Maris replied, taking the moment to spin away, the skirt of her red dress billowing around her like a cloud. Her partner pulled her back into a dip before straightening her upright and wrapping his arm around her waist. She in turn slung an arm around his neck before falling back into step. One two three, one two three, one two three.

“This is nice. Just you and me. No kids.” he smiled. Maris threw her head back and laughed.

“No kids!” she agreed. His smile grew wide, dimples showing. It didn’t matter that it had been almost twenty years; those dimples were still adorable. She was enjoying being with him.

The change of scenery was nice and although she loved her two children very much, she could only take so much of a twelve year old girl who was convinced she was strong enough to bring back the dead. Maris knew what it took to resurrect the dead. One of the necessary requirements was to recite an incantation in an old demon language, which Millicent most certainly could not do as she could barely spell in English now. Lawrence, on the other hand, possibly could manage it. But he wouldn’t do it. Maris knew that Lawrence knew it was wrong. She had nothing to fear of them using magic that they shouldn’t be using. If anything, she had to worry about them trying to kill each other after getting in a nasty fight.

That was the thing about siblings. Although Lawrence was rather mature at the age of seventeen, Millicent was a fireball of energy. He was the calm night of her bright and sunny day. She was also passionate about anything and was not scared to fight, whether it be physical or verbal. Millicent was not the poised and prim girl Maris thought she would be. Things could get ugly quick if Millicent got angry. Maris began to worry as scenes of a burning or destroyed home and children conjured themselves up in her mind. Her brow creased in worry from the sudden thoughts.  
“Perhaps we should head home before the children tear each other and the house apart.” Maris suggested, pulling away from her husband in order to retrieve her things. He caught her elbow and pulled her back to his embrace.  
“They’ll be fine, Maris. Lawrence is almost an adult. He can handle a twelve year old.”  
“We can barely handle her, Adam. She’s a free spirit. When she’s determined, there is no stopping her. “  
“Wake up, Maris.” Adam commanded suddenly. Maris paused.  
“Excuse me?” she asked hesitantly. Adam started nudging her shoulder. Hard.  
“Come on, wake up! You’ve been sleeping forever. There’s customers and I’ve tried. God I’ve tried, but I can’t handle custom orders.” More nudging, or more accurately, hitting.  
“Maris! Wake up!” a shout now. Maris broke the surface of her dreamscape, dragging herself from the calming bliss to her present afterlife.  
A young woman stood over the couch where she had fallen asleep. Her violet hair hung in waves that reached her mint green elbows. She was thin with a long nose and wore a purple dress that rested just above the knees. A tall twisted hat of similar color rested precariously on her head.  
“Wha…”  
“There’s people in the shop that need one of your custom spells. I’ve been getting better at magic, but I’m nowhere near your skills.” Maris suddenly snapped to attention as she realized what her apprentice was saying. One of the services she offered was created her own personal spells that would be especially unique for her customers’ situation. It was one of the things that separated her shop from the other witches’ shops.

Maris glanced over at the clock hanging on a nearby wall. The clock read 10:27.  
“Oh god! Shock, why didn’t you wake me sooner? I should have been up hours ago.”  
“You looked like you needed the sleep.I could tell how deep you were sleeping from your snoring. Harlequin is waiting out front.”  
“Right, of course!” she exclaimed, propelling herself off of the couch, reluctantly waving off the lingering bliss of the dream. She marched through her living quarters hidden in the back of the shop to the front of the store where Harlequin Demon was waiting at the counter, bored out of his mind. He suddenly jerked up in surprise at Maris’s abrupt entrance.  
“How can I help you today, Mr. Harlequin?” Her question went unanswered as the silence swallowed Maris’s gumption. The silence annoyed Maris. So much for a customer being in dire need of her magic.  
“What?” she growled, hands on her hips at his blank and amused expression.  
“Oh, I hadn’t realized I had woken you from your slumber, Miss Maris.” was his reply as he looked her up and down. Maris caught this and looked down at herself. She was still wearing the old yoga pants and baggy T-shirt she had changed into after returning from gathering ingredients last night, and her hair was still freed from its prison, tangled around her arms and hitting her lower waist. If she had to spend the night working, she would rather be comfy than running around in her usual black dress and boots.

“My apologizes. Would you please give me a moment to dress myself respectfully?” Maris amended, feeling her porcelain skin heat up from embarrassment at the wardrobe malfunction.Harlequin nodded, speechless from the exchange.

Maris retreated to her home in the back with as much grace as her humiliation could muster. She ripped off the comfy clothes and quickly threw on her elegantly fashioned black dress.

It had begun to be known as her “costume” only a day or two after her arrival when the other citizens took notice of her liking to the garment. The dress was long sleeved with a low square neckline that showed off just a little cleavage and was fitted around the waist. At the hips, the material fanned out a little so that it did not constrain her legs, making it easy to move in.

She quickly zipped up the heeled knee high boots that accompanied the dress before rushing to the bathroom vanity. Maris grabbed a brush and tore it through the long mess of hair that had tangled itself in her sleep. That was why it was braided when it wasn’t up. The long hair was such a pain though she loved it so. Once each strand was stick straight, she gathered it all up into a new chignon, pulling the wild locks out of her unnatural bright yellow eyes; a color that didn’t bother any of the citizens of Halloween Town but disturbed each person Maris met in her past life.

When she was done she washed her face and inspected her image in the mirror, careful to make sure that nothing was out of place. Once she was satisfied, she ran through the house until she reached the door to the shop and stopped. She took a breath, collecting herself from the humiliation that had just occured.

It was over and now she walked in with her usual elegant grace as poised as a noblewoman, hands clasped in front of her and head held high. An easy smile graced her face as she approached the large counter and opened the ginormous ledger resting in front of her. Shock moved to stand beside her, ready to do her bidding.  
Shock had changed over the many years that had passed since that fateful Christmas and the day Maris came to Halloween Town; not just physically. Of course Shock and the other Boogie boys weren’t perfect angels. They would still pull the occasional scheme, though these were rather few as Jack was quick to stop the troublemakers due to Maris’s skill at reading Shock. The other citizens may not realize it, but the girl wears her heart on her sleeve. The three definitely still fought with each other many times a day. Lock and Barrel weren’t too keen on the idea of Shock leaving them for considerable amounts of time most of the week, but they found that they actually liked the “no girls” time.

Shock had decided to shape up whenever she worked with Maris because Shock genuinely liked her and did not want to lose her apprenticeship. Because of this, Shock was sure to come to the shop right on time every morning for the five days a week that it was open and she did her best to take in what Maris was teaching her so that she could be the best witch she could possibly be.

Shock met Maris a couple days after Maris was welcomed to town. Maris had walked in on one of the Boogie boys’ schemes and had questioned the trio what they were doing outside the mayor’s home with multiple rolls of toilet paper and cartons of eggs.  
“Do you realize how costly it is to buy those things only to waste them so carelessly?” she had questioned with a raised brow. Shock had immediately paused from throwing an egg to ponder the question.  
“No.”  
“Well, let me tell you. From what I recollect it was rather expensive to stock a bathroom for my family.” Shock had been both intrigued and annoyed by Maris’s interference.  
“You’re a witch aren’t you, child?” Maris continued.  
“I’m not a child.” Shock snapped.  
“Have you mastered your powers?” Shock hesitated.  
“No.” she finally answered. Maris nodded.  
“I see. Perhaps I could help you. I’ve opened up a Spell Shop. Stop by and maybe I’ll train you and offer you an apprenticeship.”  
“I don’t need help from an old hag like you!” Shock suddenly snorted. Maris was amused, but had no reply for the young witch.  
“Yeah, get lost you old crone. We’re busy here.” the devil, Lock, joined in.  
“Busy wasting your afterlife.” Maris observed.  
“Whatever, get lost. You’ll blow our cover.” the ghoul, Barrel, chimed in. Maris shrugged and turned to leave.  
“I see. Well, my offer still stands. Drop by sometime if you changed your mind, young lady.

Soon after that, Shock was hit with the realization that Maris was the first citizen to show real interest in them. She wasn’t afraid of them or disgusted by them like everyone else. And she had offered to help Shock. Shock’s powers had developed a bit ago, but she had had no idea how to use them. It was about a couple weeks later after a sudden rush of customers that Shock entered the shop to accept Maris’s offer. Maris smiled, glad that the young witch had returned and that was that.

Maris looked over at Harlequin.  
“And what can I do for you today, Mr. Harlequin?” she asked in her best polite voice saved for customer service. Maris slipped into her routine of her passion, letting the recurring dream and the morning’s embarrassment slide out to the back of her mind where it couldn’t bother her. She had more important matters to attend to at the moment.


	2. Chapter 2

October 31, 2007 a little later

Only a few minutes had passed since Harlequin left the shop once each and every detail of his order had been recorded in the ledger. Maris quickly rattled off a list of supplies for Shock to fetch after she promised Harlequin that his order would be ready for pickup on Thursday at 1:00. Though one would be surprised to think it, there was a lot of work that would be needed to complete Harlequin’s order; a spell to allow one’s head to spin around was not a simple spell.

Maris spent no haste in fetching a nearby journal. Maris flipped through a plethora of chapters and pages before she reached the notes she was searching for. After she had broken her arm in an accident when she was twenty-one, she had fallen into an obsession to study anatomy; and not just human anatomy either. She studied in depth on whales, birds, rats, squirrels, cats, any animal she could get her hands on. It turns out her research had proved worthwhile. A spell to spin a head around a perfect 180 degrees without snapping the neck would have to be as intricately performed as an open heart surgery. Maris poured over the research, pondering which angle would be most appropriate to take in this situation when Shock broke into her concentration. 

“So, what happened this morning?” Shock inquired with a raised eyebrow.  
“I overslept. That is all.” Shock’s eyebrow shot higher. Shock knew as well as Maris that she never overslept, no matter how exhausted she was. There were potions that would provide plenty of energy after a night of hard work.  
“That’s it?” Shock responded in a sort of mocking tone, hand on her hip.  
“Everyone makes mistakes, Shock. You should know that.” If the jab hurt Shock, she didn’t express it, which would be a surprise since the girl was an open book; a fact Shock was oblivious to.  
“Not you. What happened? Something about you is off this morning.”  
“Off?” Maris questioned the observation.  
“Yeah, you’re the most composed person I know, but today you’re so...unsettled.” Maris tried to hide her pause. Could Shock be seeing Maris’s puzzlement about the dream? It had been bothering her all morning, as Maris had had similar dreams lately. Only they weren’t dreams. They were memories. Warped memories of the life she used to have to be exact. They had been happening more and more often. First it was only a library. Soon it was running from some invisible foe until she spotted Adam observing the contents of one of the shelves. He had been younger than he would be now in that particular dream. 

And then their were the dreams of Lawrence and Millicent playing in a park or arguing about how to best make a sleeping serum. Both of them were wrong, of course. Neither had included Deadly Nightshade as an ingredient!

It wasn’t the dreams themselves that were bothering her, it was the sudden loneliness that enveloped her after the peaceful bliss of being with her family once again. The embrace of her children, Adam’s arm around her waist at the gala last night, the cadence of their sweet voices, their presence which she missed more than she could ever put into words.  
Maris had grown to love Halloween Town a week or two after her arrival, but the affection for the beloved town would never replace the affection she had for her family. Maybe that was why she admired Shock so much. Shock reminded her of her fiery Millicent. As far as Maris was concerned, Shock was the only family she had left. 

“Nothing is wrong. You know that we ran out of supplies yesterday. It took me all night to restock and I happened to have about twenty minutes available for resting before opening up shop. Only it appears that twenty minutes turned into three hours. I must have forgotten to set an alarm.”  
“You did set an alarm. I turned it off.”  
“Oh.” Maris did not know what else to say to that.  
“So I suppose you were also accidently careless enough to go to work without getting dressed.”  
“Yes.” It was almost funny. Although Maris had about twenty years of age over Shock, she was the one being grilled like a guilty child.  
“That’s bull. You don’t do things on accident. You do things for a reason.”  
“Shock, it was only an accident.”  
“Exactly! You don’t normally make accidents. You are the most prepared, composed, and organized person I know. The fact that you of all people made a mistake proves that something’s up.” Maris said nothing. She stared the mint skinned witch down, hoping to intimidate her. No luck.  
“Last night, did something happen last night.” Shock was hopeful now, sure that she was onto something, that she was going to pull something out.  
“I had a dream.” Shock instantly deflated.  
“That’s it? You’re so worked up about a dream?”  
“It was of my family. And now I have fallen into despair for their loss. That is the uneasiness you are seeing.” Shock nodded with as much understanding as she could. Shock, like most citizens, didn’t remember anything from before. She could only guess what it would be like to live on in the afterlife knowing that your family was alive and well and grieving you. That you would never see them again. Shock tried, and failed, to imagine the feeling. It was tough when she couldn’t remember anything of what she used to be.

“Loss? If anything they have lost you.” Maris didn’t miss a beat.  
“No, they believe they won’t see me again because I’m dead. I know I won’t see them again now that I know where I am. This is not heaven for it is not a perfect world, but it is nowhere near hell either. I believe this place to be one of many purgatories. Since I died on the night of October 31st, I have been sent here to live my afterlife. The chances that they will follow the exact same path and end up here is almost impossible. It is why the population here is so small. There are so many slots of days on the roulette wheel of death and this one is skinnier than a post.”

“This place isn’t heaven?”  
“No. I am sure of it.”  
“But it is a wonderful place.”  
“Shock. There are no angels or clouds or pearly gates here. This town may be wonderful, but it is not heaven.” Besides, I would never be allowed in heaven even if I begged from my knees. Maris thought to herself.

“It’s heaven to me.” Shock replied in a small voice. Maris nodded. The town was it’s own unique kind of paradise. Not only that, but Shock had friends who loved her very much. She wasn’t fooled by the fights and bruises they gave each other. The Boogie boys all cared for each other deeply.  
“I could only call this place heaven if I had my family with me.” Maris spoke in the same vulnerable voice.  
“I guess that makes sense. I don’t know what I would do here with you or Lock or Barrel.”  
“You’ve known those boys for a long time, but I must say that I am surprised you included me on that list.”  
“You’ve started to grow on me.” Shock mumbled in a muddy voice Maris was sure she wasn’t supposed to hear. Maris smiled at the compliment. It meant more to her than Shock would ever know. If Maris had to live here, she might as well change someone’s life if she could. Mentoring Shock had created an affection for the girl that Maris hadn’t expected when she first made her offer to teach her magic almost three years ago.  
Maris surprised the eucalyptus colored witch by embracing her in a tight hug. Shock flailed at the touch of affection.  
“Oh please, you have just confessed to looking up to me as a friend. Do not go through the futile struggle of hiding it from me.” Maris could hear the eye roll as Shock melted into the hug, wrapping her own arms around her mentor and friend.They stayed like that for a few minutes before separating and Shock proceeded to break the ice.  
“So, have you been in love before?”  
“Yes.” Maris answered, careful to mask her curiosity. She wasn’t sure what turn this conversation would take.  
“Do you remember it?”  
“Every single thing.”  
“Is it as wonderful as all of those mushy books say it is?” Maris couldn’t hide her curiosity anymore. What angle was that girl playing? It was highly out of character for Shock to display interest in romance.  
“What do want, Shock?”  
“Do you think you could be in love again?”  
“No. I’ve done it once and once is good enough for me.”  
“What happened?”  
“I died.”  
“Oh, right. Of course.” Shock answered, flustered  
“I just told you I miss my family.”  
“You never elaborated who made up your family. I thought you were kind of young to be married and have children so I assumed you meant your parents and siblings.” Maris was taken aback by this. Too young? Maris was thirty-six when she died. A lot of women were married and had children by then. Of course their oldest child probably wasn’t seventeen.  
“I was married,” Maris lifted her left hand to Shock so that she could see the gold band and tiny diamond that still sat on her finger,”but death has parted us. My love story has ended. I will never love another like him.” Shock stared silently at the ring. Shock did not take her eyes off the ring as she spoke her next words.  
“Can you teach me how to make a love potion?” Maris immediately snapped out of her haze of memories of Adam. Love potion? The girl wanted to make a love potion.  
“Why would you want a love potion?” Shock clammed up, not wanting to reveal the unlucky soul who would be tricked into drinking the concoction.  
“Shock.”  
“Mmlawkmm” Maris’s brow shot up.  
“Speak up, please.”  
“Mmmlawkmm!” Shock murmured much louder.  
“Well, that’s a good enough volume, but how about some enunciation? Come on, speak clearly.  
“Lock.” she replied in a clear voice before looking away to hide the tinged cheeks.  
“That’s what I thought you said. Well, if you truly have feelings for him that you wish to pursue then I recommend you tell him yourself.  
“I can’t do that.”  
“Pray tell why not?” Maris rolled her eyes. Teenagers and their drama. Then again, Lock and Shock were good friends. The confession could shake the foundation of such a friendship. Maris understood the hesitation. Hadn’t she been there herself once?  
“Because I just can’t risk that.”  
“Well a love potion isn’t the right answer. I will tell you that right now.”  
“Will it work?”  
“You mean will Lock fall in love with you if he happened to drink it? Yes.”  
“That’s what I want. I want a love potion so that he will love me and I don’t have to risk breaking the friendship because he will be guaranteed to love me.” Shock had started pacing the room, planning how the romance would become inevitable.  
“You don’t want that, darling. It doesn’t really work.”  
“But you said he will fall in love with me if he drinks it.”  
“He will, but...:”  
“Then there is no problem! We can make one now and I’ll slip it in his drink later. It’s perfect!” But it is wrong. Very wrong. Maris scolded in her mind. Shock’s mind was made up. It would be no use to try to convince the witch of the immorality of love potions. Yes, they worked, but they gave the victim no free will at all. Lock would love her, but it would be the potion forcing him while the real Lock would be pushed down deep inside, kicking and screaming to take back control of himself. It was a cruel lesson that Shock would have to learn for herself.  
“Are you sure?”  
“Yes!” Shock was ecstatic now that she had thought of the idea.  
“Alright then.” Maris frowned as she flipped the book to a chapter of dark magic where the recipe would be found.  
***************************************************************************  
It had not taken long to brew the cursed potion. Maris questioned Shock once again multiple times through the preparation if she was sure she wanted to go through with it. She had tried many times to warn Shock of the ethics of love potions, but she didn’t want to hear it. Maris even threatened that the effects were permanent and that there was no antidote, hoping this would cause Shock to reconsider. It hadn’t. 

Due to the lack of customers since Harlequin’s visit, Maris decided to send Shock home early. So much for spending the night restocking. It was fine; Maris had other things that she needed to get done today anyway just like everyone else. It was Halloween afternoon, after all. 

She retreated from the shop and sat down at the desk in the private backroom she had holed up in the night before. It was located just off from the living room she had crashed in that morning. The room was lined with shelves and shelves of books, journals, and studies on magic, chemistry and potions, witch history, demonology, dark magic, voodoo, tarot, psychics, herbology, anything. But Maris didn’t need any of the books. She knew most of the facts by heart as she was well studied in all of the subjects surrounding her, and the most important parts amidst her own notes and discoveries were hidden in her prized possession; her spellbook. 

She grabbed the book and tucked it under her arm as she left the shop. The book was not necessary for the journey, but she wished to reflect on some notes for the duration of her walk to the forest. It turns out that even after all of that work, Maris had forgotten a couple ingredients for the brew she would need after she returned from the human world early the next morning. Maris flipped to a page on palm reading as she walked on.

The book had been in her hands for over twenty years now. She found it once when she was scourging through a library when she was thirteen. It had been soon after she first discovered her powers. Maris knew how conservative her parents were, what would happen if they knew she was a witch. She did not want to know what would happen, which is what brought her to the library. She was pleasantly surprised to learn that the library did happen to have an extensive selection on incantations, spells, and potions. She was even more surprised to come across a humongous volume among the shelves. The book was about nine inches thick and bound in cracking brown leather. The volume had no script printed on either cover or the spine, a fact Maris found odd. 

Another odd trait was that the book contained multiple authors. Silas MaCarthur had written a chapter on the many uses of wolfsbane, Clarissa Von Canton’s work made up most of the dark magic chapter. A Helga Hawthorne had an expansive chapter on a variety of herbs. Adam Evans had expanded deeply on this chapter due to his vast and genius knowledge on the subject. There were many other contributions among the various chapters, each were dated and some dates were centuries ago. Maris had added her fair share of knowledge to the book as well. Unlike her predecessors, Maris was not planning on hiding the volume in a place where someone else could find it. 

It was a very powerful book, full of almost any kind of magic possible, due to existing a few hundred years, the book was written in several different languages. Some passages were even written in a special invisible ink, enchanted to not show up without the use of a very complicated spell, and or coded in an equally confusing and intricate code. These authors had gone to great lengths to protect the magic from falling into the wrong hands. And Maris was not going to let the book fall into the wrong hands, which is what prompted her to do the most intricate spell she has ever performed then or since; Maris weaved a part of her soul into the book, forever binding it to her. 

That particular spell is the reason her treasured possession followed her into the second life. It was transformed to be a part of her soul; therefore, it travels along with her soul. Jack had been quite surprised by the book’s appearance when he first found Maris late on Halloween night.  
The citizens had recently returned from their very successful night of scaring in the human world and were gathered in the town square, patiently awaiting for Jack to return with any new arrivals who happened to show up. They didn’t get new arrivals often; in fact, more times than not there were no new citizens who returned with Jack to town. But that year was one of the special few when someone new was walking behind in Jack’s wake to their new home for eternity. That was the year he found the woman dusting herself off after crawling up out of the earth. Jack’s sockets picked up on an object lying near her, intrigued he reached to pick up the volume only to quickly let go as the book’s touch seared his boney fingers. 

The woman looked up at Jack, for she had not yet spotted the skeleton man. Her eyebrows spiked in a look of amused surprise, but not exactly fear.

“I see that you have found my spellbook.” she said bluntly, stooping down to retrieve said book. Jack was about to voice a warning of touching the book as her words had not sunken into his skull quite yet. He was genuinely shocked when the witch picked up the volume with no protest whatsoever. Jack said nothing as she quickly leafed through a few pages.

“Excellent. The ritual appears to have been successful.” she closed the book with a slam, posing her question to Jack.

“Perhaps you could escort me to that town up there?” she nodded to the town situated on the hills of pumpkin patches and graveyards.  
“Escort you?” the baffled Pumpkin King inquired.  
“Well, that is where I am to stay in my afterlife, correct? The wailing of horns and flash of headlights are stilling echoing in my brain. I cannot imagine that I made it out of that alright as I happen to be standing in a cemetery as I speak. It seems that I have been sentenced to this town. Would you be so kind as to escort me to it and show me around, sir?”

Jack snapped out of his stupor, “Of course, of course! Follow me, Miss...Miss…?”

“Maris.” the woman supplied.

“Miss Maris!” the king repeated jovially as he offered his arm, “This way, if you please.” He was happy to show the woman around although it was odd. The woman remembered her death. She claimed that the book was her spellbook. This woman remembered her life. How odd, thought Jack.

By this time Maris was deep enough in the forest to gather what she needed. She checked over her list one final time for any other missing supplies. Then she checked again, and then she triple checked. Once satisfied, Maris decided to head back to town through the graveyard where the Deadly Nightshade was located. She had saved it for last as she figured it would be more convenient to pick some on the way back to town. 

Maris located the plant in no time. She arranged the sprigs among her other supplies that were contained in an old wicker basket, hanging from her arm. She climbed off of her knees to head back when she noticed a figure approaching her.

“Sally! What a surprise. What are you up to on this fine afternoon?”

“Oh, the same as you. I have run out of Deadly Nightshade. That Witch Hazel is looking pretty good too, though. Perhaps I’ll gather some of that as well.” the rag doll smiled her warm stitched smile. Maris returned it with one of her own.

“That sounds nice. I’ll leave you to it. Good day, Sally.” Maris began to walk away.  
“What kind of spell are you making with all of that, Miss Maris?” Maris stopped and spun on her heel to face the Pumpkin Queen. 

“How much has Jack told you?” Sally seemed slightly confused at the question before seeming to come to an understanding.

“If you are referring to how fake your annual Halloween gimmick is, then yes. I am well aware that it is just an oddity that you mask for the other 364 days of the year. Although why you hide it, I cannot understand.” 

Maris was not sure how to answer that. Her “gimmick” unsettled her, and she did not wish for the other citizens to know that it was not a trick at all. There was no hiding it from Jack. He had seen it that first night, and although Maris had quickly developed an elixir the next day and told the citizens that it was only a trick, Jack had not been convinced.  
“Yes, this is for my annual elixir. It is, after all, Halloween. I will need it for the morning so that everything will be normal again.” The rag doll looked rather disappointed as Maris turned to leave again. Sally called after her.

“Maris, dear, we are all monsters. We adore and worship the creepy and frightening. The others would not care if they knew that it is not a gimmick, but who you are.” Maris gave a small smile over her shoulder as she continued.

“Maybe, but I’m not comfortable with that scenario yet.” 

“Perhaps next year! Or some years after that. Time may change your heart.” Or not, Maris added in her head. 

Thoughts clashed around in her mind as she journeyed back home. The other citizens had started to finish up the final preparations for the coming night and were beginning to gather to converse about how horrifying it would all be. The Clown with the Tear Away Face wheeled around excitedly on his unicycle, almost running over a small bat child that was chasing a little mummy. Chattering citizens were startled by the children weaving in and out of legs. The unfortunate Behemoth lost his balance in the game, tumbling off his feet. 

Maris smiled at the sight as she climbed the three steps up to her small porch and door. The eyeball door recognized her as the mistress of the house, therefore, opening up since he had been instructed to keep the house locked. The door unlocked and swung open as Maris came face to face with giant red, beady eyes and black claws. An enormous black scorpion was headed right her way.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3 

October 31, 2007

Maris came face to face with giant red, beady eyes and black claws. An enormous black scorpion was headed right her way.

The scorpion flew through the air, claws snapped with the promise of venom and pain. Maris wasted no time; she outstretched her arm and unleashed her power, “ignium, scorpius!” Flames dashed from her fingertips with enough force to knock the scorpion on its back. A high pitched scream pierced the room as the scorpion writhed on the wooden floor, engulfed in flames.

“What the hell? My precious scorpion!” Shock darted for her treasured pet, reaching to console the creature but wary of touching the now dying flames.

“Not cool, bro.” the remaining parts of the boogie boys were lounging on Maris’s giant desk. She crossed her arms over her chest, shooting glares at each member. It was safe to say that Maris was not amused by their intrusion.

“What are you three doing here?” she sighed in agitation.

“Awe come on, we can’t visit our favorite sorceress? We missed you!” Lock replied with insincere innocence. Maris cocked an eyebrow.

“I didn't realize you had a favorite among us. Tell me, do you attempt to frighten all of them with a scorpion when you wish to pay them a visit?”

“Needles missed you, too.” the devil boy shrugged, nodding at the fried scorpion that Shock was now successfully cradling.

“What do you three want? Why are you really here?” Maris started again, eager to get the boogie boys to leave. She had important business to handle. 

“We can’t come pay you a social call? We’re only being friendly.” Barrel answered, removing his cherished lollipop.

“I suppose throwing scorpions is how you greet all of your friends?” Maris retorted. By this time Shock had returned to her cohorts side, stroking Needles. The trio eyed each other in an amused sort of way.

“Well, yeah.” Barrel laughed out as if it were the funniest thing he had ever heard.

“You always pull tricks on others when meeting up with them? You never get together only to converse?”

“What's the fun in that?” Lock hooted in laughter.

“I see.” was all Maris could say until she remembered something else, “how did you get in here anyway? I know the door was locked.”

Shock, who hadn’t talked in the last few minutes took this one, “You gave me a key when you hired me so that I could come in if I showed up early. You were stupid enough to trust me with it or something.” the young witch smirked, satisfied that she could take all the credit, herself. Of course she was right. Maris had done just that, but she didn’t care at the moment. She had work to do. Shock would be dealt with later.

“Whatever, fine. I don't care why you are here. I need peace and quiet at the moment. I’ll be rather busy up until tonight’s events. Now, move along.” Maris was trying hard to mask her growing irritation. 

“Oh, but we can’t leave yet!” Lock proclaimed.

“Not until we have had our tea!” Barrel continued with mounting excitement.

“Tea?” Maris questioned. Since when has the trio ever drank tea?

“Oh yes, we made a very special especially for you!” Shock finished, handing off Needles to Lock before retreating to the kitchen. She soon returned with one of Maris’s fine porcelain saucers, which was filled to the brim with a warm, red brown liquid. 

“That is only one cup. Where are yours?” she demanded.

“Well you see now it’s quite simple,” the devil began, “we don't like tea so we only made enough for you.” Maris brought the steaming cup up to her nose to take in the tea’s wafting aroma. 

There was something peculiar about the tea’s smell. She inhaled a much deeper sniff, carefully analyzing everything about it. The smell was rather familiar…

“How odd.” Maris observed, digging in her memory to find out why she recognized the delightful scent. She took another whiff. It smelled of flowery valleys. It smelled of chocolate melting on her tongue. It smelled of contagious laughter and sunshine. It smelled of peppered kisses, shy and coy. It smelled of pounding hearts and dizzying ecstasy. It smelled of tangled limbs crowned in starlight and smiles that never ceased. It smelled of...of…

“Love,” Maris breathed out dazed, “It smells of love.” she announced. She snapped out of her haze as a realization struck her, darkening her gaze.

“It’s love potion. You put love potion in this tea!” she threw the cup to the ground in rage, actually startling the trio. Her glare pierced each member, especially Shock. 

She had been duped by that wretched girl! How could she have been so foolish? Of course the girl wasn’t interested in romance. The only thing her heart longed for was the thrill of a good prank and she had almost gotten away with it.

Heaven only knows what Maris would have done next if her fury hadn’t been disturbed by the warm sticky liquid she felt on her lip. The twinge of pain shortly arrived afterwards as she realized that her canines had grown long and had punctured her lip. In fact, now that she was distracted from her anger, she noticed the tingly feeling spreading through her body. The trick or treaters need to leave now before the sensation got worse; it was almost time…

“Get out.” Maris snarled. Lock and Barrel bolted from the room. Shock also followed although she was rather hesitant. 

“Maris, I...I…”  
“I said get out! We’ll talk about tomorrow.” the sorceress growled. Shock nodded silently before leaving, locking the door behind her. 

Maris stared at the entrance in anger of what had just happened. Shock had lied to her. She tricked her into making a love potion, making her think that it was meant to solve her boy problems when it was actually meant for a stupid prank. 

Before Maris could dwell on the issue further, a wave of pain washed over her. She sucked in a gasp of agitation as all of her muscles started cramping at once. Maris hurried to her bedroom, releasing her hair from its bun, quickly throwing the black dress up and over her head, and kicking off her boots. It would be better that way.

She had barely reached her room before a second wave forced her to collapse on the ground. Her head pounded, her shoulder blades protested where all of her muscles writhed beneath her skin. Her finger bones cracked, eliciting a whimper from the witch as they stretched and grew to become more claw-like than hand. She screamed in anguish as if her skull was about to rip out of her skin. She gritted her teeth at the agony of horns blasting through her skin. The muscles in her back contracted as she hunched over, roaring a guttural shriek as her back bones split open her skin, allowing two leathery black wings to shoot out. She squirmed as the pain kept raking over and over her. Her skin was stretching and hardening into something stronger. Her jaw ached as all of her teeth grew sharper to accompany her fangs. She released one last bloodcurdling scream and suddenly it was all over.

Her frame continued to shake as the lingering pain ebbed away. Maris panted hard from the floor, waiting for her body to calm enough for her to get up. 

Once her breathing and heart rate were normal, she stood up on jello legs, stumbling over to the bathroom to examine her appearance. 

Her hair was half crazed and half matted with sweat. All of her teeth had gotten much sharper, but her fangs stood out much more than the rest. Her porcelain skin looked as if it had been smeared with shadows and the filth of the world. Enormous raven black, bat-like wings had broken through her skin and, Maris’s personal favorite, a pair of long curly ram’s horns crowned her wild hair. Her yellow eyes even seemed to be sharper and wilder in this state, adding to the truth of the monster she truly was. 

This was who she became when she first woke up in that grave three years ago. This was what Jack saw when she frantically dug herself out of the grave. This was what she had always been deep down. A truth that took years and years for her to learn, and a few more to accept… 

Now that the transformation into her demon self was complete, she returned to her bedroom to redress herself. The black dress was out as her wings made it rather uncomfortable for her to wear. Not to mention that she loved to stretch her wings and a dress was the last thing she wanted to wear while flying. She dug through many hangers in her closet, many of them holding her usual black dress amidst other outfits. 

She finally found what she was looking for and removed it from the closet. She easily slipped into the black body suit, clipping its halter style top around her neck. The bodysuit was backless, allowing her leathery wings to breathe. She then zipped her knee high boots back on before returning to the vanity to fix her mess of hair.

It needed to be tied back so that it wouldn’t become a nuisance throughout the night. In a matter of minutes, Maris had braided her hair into a crown around her hair, careful to avoid her horns.

Once she deemed herself as a presentable demon she snuck a peek out the nearby window to see that the pumpkin sun was setting. Perfect timing; Jack would be announcing everyone's assignments in a moment if he hadn’t already started. 

 

************************

Shock was bored out of her mind. It was taking Jack forever to pass out the assigned countries for the night.  
Couldn’t the line move any faster? How long does a girl have to wait to get some candy and raise some general chaos? Sheesh! 

She stood in line next to her cohorts, waiting to reach Jack and the portal teleporting everyone to their assignment for the night.

Things had changed for the trio in the years following that fateful Christmas Eve. The most obvious being that the trick or treaters were free from Oogie’s bidding and their days no longer required trapping bugs. Yes, the town still didn't like them. What could she say? Once a pest, always a pest. Yes, they still picked on the townspeople; they were,after all, trick or treaters. It was only logical that they played tricks while enjoying treats. The other obvious change was in their appearances. 

Halloween Town was rather particular when it came to the age of the citizens. Many citizens had lived in town for a century or two without aging another day, but not Lock, Shock, and Barrel. If Shock had to guess, she would say that the lucky number was thirty-five. She had once told Jack this and he agreed.

Her theory was this: all citizens who arrive at Halloween Town at the age of thirty-five or older would not age another day. Anyone younger would grow up and mature into a thirty-five year over the amount of years that were necessary. This would explain why Maris hadn’t aged at all in the last three years. If Maris is truly thirty-six, then she is done. Shock still has fourteen years to go before she stopped aging for eternity.

Fifteen years had passed since they kidnapped Sandy Claws, meaning that Shock was now twenty-one, Lock was twenty, and Barrel was still the baby at nineteen. Time had been rather gracious to the three as they each aged in their respective ways. All grew taller, though the boys towered over her. The boys’ shoulders broadened as well. Barrel, especially, gained from aging since most of his chubby baby fat disappeared as he grew. He was nowhere near lean, but “husky” was a good way to describe it. 

As for Shock, she finally grew into her long nose. Well, mostly: it was still very long. And like all females, her body had developed curves. She believed that she was pretty, but the side glances or straight on staring she had noticed from some of the male monsters her age gave her the all the confirmation she needed.

And Lock… he had also changed. He grew the way all boys did; big, strong, and handsome. The problem was the way Shock’s heart jumped and stomach flipped until her body and cheeks overheated. It was terrible, but wonderful. She scowled inwardly to herself as she caught herself staring at him and how the line of his jaw…Uh oh, he’s looking. He’s looking at her. Act natural! 

Shock snapped her attention away from him and feigned sudden interest in the full moon. 

“What’s your problem?” it was then that Shock realized the scowl might not have been in her head. Think fast! 

“Erh, um, this line is just taking forever.” she lamely supplied. Lock looked at her another beat. Shock observed the stars nearby the moon. 

“Tell me about it.” he finally replied. Shock released a breath she had not noticed she had been holding. Barrel ate his stupid lollipop, oblivious to anything that just happened. 

Shock watched the vampire brothers and the corpse family step through the portal before hissing another angry sigh. She had, by now, lost interest in the sky. She was getting more annoyed at the minute until she heard an exhilarating cheer from up and above. 

A silhouette eclipsed the harvest moon. It took Shock only a second to recognize the shadow. 

“Is that…” Barrel started, finally paying attention.

“Maris.” Lock and Shock finished together. They looked at each other in surprise. Then her surprise turned to disgust. It was not his ability to recognize the sorceress’s shadow that she found unsettling. It was the lustful tone it had been spoken in. 

“What?” was his exasperated reply as he tried to register the look on her face.

“Nothing, nothing at all.” she crossed her arms, looking away first. Barrel looked from Lock, to Shock, and back to Lock again, before returning to Shock once more. 

As they moved ever so much closer to the portal, Maris began to descend. Shock watched as she landed and pulled in her leathery wings. Immediately, the young children flocked to her side, chattering away about how scary she was. Shock had to admit that it was a terrific spell. Perhaps she should ask to make it sometime. Although Shock found it a little odd that Maris had brewed and taken the spell within the amount of time the trio had taken to leave and head to town hall for send off. 

But Shock shrugged it off as she noticed that they were next in line. A small pack of werewolves were just about to leave. 

“Shock,” Shock snapped to attention as she saw Maris had suddenly approached her, “Be at the shop by 9:30 sharp. We have business to attend to.” 

“Yeah, great.” Shock pulled away from where Maris grabbed her elbow. 

“Ah, the famous trick or treaters. I am sending you three off to…” Jack studied his notes. 

“Shock!” she turned back to Maris, “ A.M. Don’t forget!” 

“I won’t. I’ll be there.” 

“Virginia, USA! Oh, how horrible! It will be a scream!” Jack exclaimed, looking up from his notes. 

“Now, off you go! Have fun!” Jack bid them goodbye. They were halfway through the portal when Lock turned around to face Maris, who was still there. 

“I’ll be there, too.” he assured her in a voice lower than his own with a strange smirk on his face. Shock grabbed his ear and pulled hard. The devil boy cried out as the witch marched through the portal, dragging him behind her.

The portal teleported them to a neighborhood full of kids of all different ages in all kinds of costumes. Some walked with parents, while others walked with friends or siblings. 

Lock grimaced and rubbed his poor, sore ear. He glared at Shock.

“What’s your problem? Was that really necessary?” 

“Considering that you flirted with a woman who is twice your age, yes.” she glared back. Lock’s little smirk came back. 

“Well, she’s a hot piece of ass.” Shock scoffed and then smacked the back of Barrel’s head when he agreed. Gross. They were both gross. How could she hate them just as much as she loved them?

“Who’s TWICE your age.” Shock fired back once again. Lock let out a short laugh before casually throwing an arm around her shoulder, triggering tiny electric bolts to course under her skin,and pulling her to his side. His grin had widened, “Oh, Shock. You forget that there is an easy solution for that. You see, I’m twenty now, so in ten years or so I will be old enough that the age gap won't matter.” Shock raised an eyebrow.

“Your plan is to wait ten years so that you’ll be old enough.” her deadpanned response as she did her best to ignore how his touch heated her skin and burned, as if a hot iron was searing a Lock sized burn into her side. She tried her best, and failed, to suppress the shiver down her spine. Hopefully he wouldn't notice. The last thing she needed was to show a reaction to his touch, whether it fed is ego (bad), gave him a clue to how she was feeling (worse), or made him outright confront her about her feelings if he had already guessed (the absolute worst).

“Or until she can't stand playing coy anymore and comes to me.” Shock nearly gagged as she tore herself out from his grip, the pleasant heat and volts now forgotten.

“Whatever, let’s just get some candy or some shit.” Shock took the lead, trying to erase the image of Lock with Maris. 

It’s not like that would ever happen anyway. Maris was too hung up in her past life and her still-living husband to consider dating. It was just like Maris had told her earlier that afternoon. Once was enough for her. So why did her stomach curl at the thought of Lock looking at other women? 

Of course Shock could easily answer that, herself. It had been hard to follow through with the plan and dump that potion in the tea, but she had done it. There was a small fraction of a second when she was in that kitchen that she had considered bagging the plan and keeping the love potion for her own use. That potion would have made everything so much easier. Now she had lost her chance. There was no way Maris would allow her to concoct a new brew. 

After the small bump in the road, the rest of the night ran as smoothly as usual. The three trick or treated, though some of the adults answering the door gave quizzical looks to the young adults among the small children, teepeed a few houses here and there, saran wrapped and keyed a few, ok a lot, of lone cars, and there may or may not have been some other acts of vandalism mixed in for good measure. They, hands down, had the best job ever. 

As the night progressed, the ex boogie boys found themselves chilling in the middle of a graveyard. Empty candy wrappers littered the manicured grass near the headstones the three were leaning against. The night had been successful.

Boatloads of candy had been gathered, some from houses and some stolen from some unfortunate children dressed as sheet ghosts that eerily resembled the KKK head coverings. Come on, their costumes were so unoriginal and not even well made. Shock could tell that the kids had cut the eye holes themselves due to the jagged circles. One kid had even cut way too many holes in his sheet. They hadn't gotten much candy out of his bucket since the kid, for some reason, had filled his paper bag with rocks.

Actually, a lot of the costumes sucked this year. It was as if children weren't original with their costumes anymore. They had seen many little girls wearing blonde wigs and sparkly clothes and singing into plastic microphones. Their high pitched squeals called music were still ringing in Shock’s ears. As for the boys, she had seen many boys dressed as a red and blue robot. Now Shock almost felt guilty for stealing from the sheet ghosts. At least they were different from the crowd. Their costumes may have been poorly constructed, but not many kids dressed up as ghosts anymore; it was actually kind of refreshing.

Barrel interrupted her thought, “Look.” He pointed the sky with a chocolate smeared finger. Shock and Lock followed the smudged digit to see the start of a sunrise painting the sky a in a gradient of pink, orange, and midnight blue; it was hideous. 

“Whelp,” sighed Lock. “It’s been fun, but we gotta go back.”

“Yeah, it’s about that time.” Shock agreed, standing up and stretching out her legs. Then she internally groaned as she realized what sunrise meant. Shock didn’t normally have to show up to the shop until afternoon on the day after Halloween, but she had told Maris that she would be there at 9:30. They had to hurry back if she had any chance of taking an hour nap or so before heading that way.

 

9:28 and Shock was nowhere in sight. Maris blew air out of her lips, resulting in that horse sound. She’d barely gotten up today and she was already busy. After turning in early that morning, she had downed her special elixir before passing out from the exhaustion of holding back the change, the transformation, and the transformation back to normal. 

She sat in the shop, nursing a headache as she ground newt into a fine powder. A clay model of Harlequin Demon’s upper and lower jaw sat on the desk as she finished her next test. This was her third attempt at spinning the clay model’s top jaw. She had to make something that worked before she could duplicate it and hand it over to Harlequin. 

She looked up as the shrunken head that hung above the door shrieked as it was opened.

“I’m here, I’m here!” Shock assured as she scrambled into the room not a moment too soon. 

“Excellent. You’re just in time. I was just about to test this salve. And then we’re going to have a talk.” Maris announced as she mixed in the powdered newt with said salve.

“Alright, help me rub this salve between the jaws.” The witches dipped their hands in the salve and spread it evenly on the clay model. Then the two sat back to observe their work. The model shook slightly before the upper jaw turned a complete 180 degrees. Maris beamed, “Success!” Shock was not celebrating. Although she was excited to see the rotation her joy flatlined as she noticed how the bone connecting the jaws was stretched around, twisted. Shock motioned to point out her concern when the clay bone suddenly snapped. Maris gasped as the uppermost part of the model fell and shattered on the floor. 

“Oh dear, that simply just won’t do.” Maris snapped her fingers and Shock watched as the broken pieces soared from the hardwood and reconnected as they had after their previous failures. 

“Stay here,” Maris commanded. “I think I know what we need to do. We’ll get it right next time.” with that Maris left Shock behind as she exited through the back of the shop. She walked through the small dining area to her private study. She knew what she was looking for, she just needed to find it. 

The shrunken head screamed again. Maris would have to hurry back out. Just as soon as she found the correct ingredient. She could hear voices from the shop. Come on, Maris. We don’t have all day. she chastised herself. 

“Maris.” The sorceress spun on her heel to see that her apprentice was standing in the doorway. 

“Yes Shock, what is it?” 

“Jack and Sally wish to see you. Immediately.” Shock informed her.

“Is it urgent?”

“They would like you to meet the newcomer. Apparently he was introduced last night after the awards, but Jack and Sally brought him here for us to meet.” Maris headed towards Shock. So it was important. 

“I thought I would have to wait much longer before meeting my first newcomer. What creature is he.”

“He’s a demon, and I believe he said that his name is Gerald. Gerald Dean. But he wishes to only be called Dean.”

“Dean” Maris tested the name on on her tongue. 

“Yeah,” Shock grumbled. “As if we need another demon.” 

Maris paused, stung. Shock looked up at her. 

Oh, sorry. I didn't mean it like that. Besides, you don’t count. You’re only a temporary demon.”

“Erh, yes. I’m sorry for being so silly. Let’s go meet this Dean.” 

The witches re entered the shop to see the Pumpkin King and Queen. 

“Good morning, ladies. I was hoping that now would be a good time to introduce you to Halloween Town’s newest resident, Dean.” 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Maris smiled, turning to the demon man between the royal couple to get a good look at him. Her voice hitched and she did her best to hide her surprise as she took him in. 

The man was dressed in a red and black suit with red horns poking out of his skull and a pointed tail. But there was no denying the brown curling hair and shining sapphire eyes, deeper than the ocean, nor the genuine smile that was anything but a demon’s sinister smile. 

The newcomer was Adam.


	4. Chapter 4

November 1, 2007

Lawrence had once heard that insanity was when one repeated the same action over and over again, expecting a different result. By this definition, Lawrence found it safe to say that he could possibly be going insane. This was the third time he had pinched himself this minute, only to find himself not waking up. It wasn’t a dream, not even a nightmare: it was reality. 

He would have given anything for this moment to turn out to be just a dream, but as Lawrence wordlessly gazed into the open coffin to see his father’s lifeless body, he knew that it was real. 

It had all been real. Adam had put Lawrence on candy duty last night while he retreated to Ravensburrow and Evans: Spells and Potions, the family business he had started with Mom back before they married. Lawrence had been worried when midnight had come and passed without his father’s return. He had been down right petrified when the late night news reported a shooting on Avery Street, where Ravensburrow and Evans was located. Lawrence had immediately stumbled through a portal only to find the EMTs loading what was left of Adam on a gurney. 

His father’s entire family was gathered around the casket grieving their loss. Cousins and great uncles and aunts, all people Lawrence had only met once or twice, had gathered to comfort each other. It was strangely different, yet similar, from his mother’s funeral three years ago. Different because many, many more people showed up. Similar because even with all of those people, Lawrence had never felt more alone. 

“I’ll never see him again.” he whispered in a voice that was barely audible. He looked away from his father’s shell as his left hand was squeezed in a warm grip to meet his Aunt Eleanor’s eyes. 

Eleanor Ravensburrow was the only adult role model he had left in his life. He could still vaguely remember the day she first came to the Evans home. He remembered hiding behind his mother’s leg, peering up at the unfamiliar woman. He could recall Maris leading her into the house and introducing the woman as her little sister.

Aunt Eleanor had the same milky skin a dark hair as Maris though she was not quite as tall. That was the end of the similarities. Much like her hands, Eleanor’s personality was warm and friendly. She was almost always smiling and her big aquamarine eyes shone with innocence.

He squeezed back, portraying his gratitude although she had not said anything. Not that there was anything to say. Lawrence believed that there was an afterlife. He believed that there are two choices. He knew, just as Maris did, which he would be going to when he died. Adam would not be joining Maris. It was just as he had said when Maris died. “We’ll never see her again.” he had lamented as she was lowered into the ground. Lawrence did not have to look at his father to know that he was talking to Millicent, not him. He would burn with her in fifty years or so. 

It was this knowledge that caused Lawrence to come undone with grief as he stood in the exact spot he had been standing on this day three years ago. As the flower laden casket was lowered into the ground. 

Lawrence read the tombstone that labeled the grave once again.

Adam James Evans  
Born April 9, 1966 Died October 31, 2007  
Beloved Husband, Father, Brother, and Son  
May his soul sleep in eternal peace

The tombstone was large, actually meant for two names. Lawrence read the neighboring name on Adam’s left.

Maris Amarie Evans  
Born September 10, 1968 Died October 31, 2004  
Beloved Wife, Mother, and Sister  
May she rest amongst the angels

Husband and wife. Together again in the only way they could. Their souls may be eternally separated, but their bones would lie together forevermore. 

Sobs broke Lawrence out of his daze. He turned to where Millicent flanked him on his right, her body shuddering from crying. Without a word, he interlaced his fingers. His aunt and his sister. The only family he had left, except for one person who was nowhere to be found. 

“It’s my fault. I should have seen it coming. I could have prevented this. I could have…” Lawrence cut his sister off.

“Don't be so hard on yourself. It’s not your fault.” 

“But I could have seen it. I could have warned him.”

“You can’t warn him of something you haven't been shown, darling.” this came from Aunt Eleanor. 

“But I’m psychic. I could have checked the cards or…”

“If the fates wanted you to help, they would have contacted you. This is how it was meant to be. I know it hurts, but Time knows what he is doing. If Adam was supposed to be saved you would have been warned.”

The rest of the ceremony was a blur and before he knew it, the coffin had been locked and lowered into the ground. Before he knew it, Lawrence and Millicent approached the grave in a way not unlike   
a robot going through the motions. The siblings were handed shovels. The minister, though the Evanses were not religious, announced that Adam’s children would be the first to cover the grave. Each sibling reluctantly took a scoop of dirt and tossed the small pile on the casket. They watched the dirt slide down the side into the grave while another part clung to their father's final resting place. It was over.

At the conclusion of the funeral, Lawrence and Millicent stood side by side at the cemetery gate, accepting condolences from those who had attended as they departed. The siblings solemnly nodded as they thanked each person for coming. After Adam’s parents and brother left they were only confronted by strangers, possibly past customers. Maris's family had not attended. 

“Oh, I can’t begin to imagine what you children are going through; first Maris and now Adam. My, it seems like only yesterday I put up with those kids.” this came from a squat old woman with long, frizzy, gray hair that stuck out in many directions and gigantic red-rimmed glasses. Millicent furrowed her brow.

“I’m sorry, who are you?” she inquired, then contained a yelp as Lawrence subtly stepped on the side of her foot. The old woman wore a wide, toothy smile. 

“Call me Reyna, dear.” she responded. The name rang a bell, and then it came to him. 

“Wait, you’re the Reyna that our parents used to work for when they were learning how their powers worked.”

“Yes, that would be me.” 

“You’re the one that made Mom wear those tight corsets at work.” Millicent added as realization dawned on her. She remembered Maris talking about how she was forced to wear tight fitting witch costumes when she was fifteen and an apprentice. Maris had loathed the costumes. 

Lawrence shot a glare her way, “Please ignore my sister. She doesn't think before she speaks.” Millicent gave him an equally condemning look as Reyna howls with laughter. 

“Ha! You children should be grateful,” Reyna wiggled her eyebrows at them, “You wouldn't be here if not for that corset.” Millicent gagged and Lawrence stood dumbstruck and speechless as Reyna barked out more chortles. He was uncomfortable in this turn of conversation. 

“I’m sure.” he finally responded. Reyna recovered from her humor as she gave them her sympathy. 

“Take care of yourselves, dears.” was her advice as she continued on. 

“Well, she’s…interesting.” Lawrence observed. For once Millicent had nothing to say. 

 

This Halloween had been rather hectic for Sally. First, Lyn took a terrible fall while scaling a wrought iron fence with her friends. Then Nick got sick a little over an hour before the festivities began. She blamed it on nerves; Jack had wanted Nick to join him this year on his Pumpkin King duties, after all. 

With both of the kids at home Sally had decided to, reluctantly, stay home this year. This, alone, already bummed her out, so when Jack woke her up in the middle of the night to introduce her to the new arrival that would be temporarily staying with them, Sally wanted to jump out a window. Why must she miss out on one of the best Halloweens? It was always exciting to wait in the Town Square as Jack traveled to the cemetery to check for any new arrivals. It was more exciting, or it had been the one time she witnessed it, when he did come back with a new monster. 

The last new arrival, Maris, had only arrived three years ago. Newcomers are few and far between. By this point, there was a significant number of citizens that call Halloween Town home because they were born there, not because they lived once and died. Because of all of this, Sally thought that she wouldn't be missing anything new. Unfortunately she had been wrong. 

She had missed the excitement of welcoming Dean, a demon, to town. Jack must have pitied her because he invited her to join him in introducing Dean to the few people who had not been present in Town Square last night. Nick was feeling much better this morning and she had also finished patching up Lyn last night so she agreed to accompany him. Which leads them to where they now stood: in Maris’s shop where Maris stood, if Sally wasn't mistaken, dumbstruck and extra pale, and Shock, who greeted Dean. 

“Oh please, the pleasure is all mine, ladies. What are your names?” Dean smiled kindly at the sorceress and her apprentice. 

“Shock,” she supplied, “and that’s my boss, Maris.” Shock added as Maris remained silent, swaying. Sally’s heart went out to the sorceress; she looked like she was going to be sick. Dean must have also made this observation since he crossed the room to grab Maris’s elbow as her hands flailed, trying to steady herself as she began to lose her balance. 

“Are you alright?” he questioned as she leaned into him, holding her head. 

“Get me to the chair. I need to sit down.” she flustered, putting as much weight as possible into Dean’s side. Sally watched as he obliged and helped her sit in the chair behind the ledger. Once she was seated, she shot him a curious look.

“Dean, you remember your first name. Tell me, do you recall anything else from your first life?” Sally couldn't place what was laced in Maris’s voice. Was it pleading? Possibly. She would have bet all of her fabrics that, for only a second, she detected longing on Maris's face. 

“No, I don't recall anything. Did I have a past life? I don't think so.” 

“What about your name? You remember that. Surely you could remember something else. Perhaps a family or a spouse? Anything?” Maris’s pleading had crossed over into something frantic. 

Dean said nothing, did nothing but stare at her in confusion. Moments of silence passed until he spoke, “There’s nothing to remember. The name was really more of a thought, not a memory. When I got here, it was my first coherent thought, so I just assumed it was meant to be my name.” there were no words for the misery written on her face. Something was going on. 

Jack broke the ice, “I apologize, Dean. Maris did not mean to interrogate you. She just cannot seem to wrap her mind around the fact that only a small handful of us can remember our first life.”

“It's alright,” he turned back to Maris, “You remember your past life?” 

“Yes,”

This seemed to amuse Dean, “Really? Everything?” 

“It’s not important. Shock and I should really finish our project. We’re running out of time.”

Dean turned his attention to the clay model of Harlequin. 

“This?” he asked. Maris looked to where he was pointing. 

“That's part of it. Shock sculpted it to assist us in our current project.” Dean picked up the sculpture to observe it from all angles, amused. 

“You are very talented, Shock.” 

“Thank you.” she beamed, soaking up the praise. 

“What’s the project?” 

“We are trying to make a salve that will turn his top jaw around 180 degrees, but I don't know if we can do it. Harlequin is coming to pick it up sometime soon and we haven't made anything that works, yet.” 

“You mean this salve?” he inquired, picking up a finger-full of the goop and bringing it to his nose to take a sniff. 

“There’s too much newt in here.” he states before taking another whiff, “And…it’s missing something else.” More sniffs as his face contorts to puzzlement. 

“Olive oil,” he glimmers in the glory of solving the puzzle, “It needs olive oil, but only a little.” 

“Olive oil? In a salve?” Shock questioned, skeptic of Dean’s suggestion. Maris only looked more ill by the second. 

“Maris, do you need to lie down? You don't look horrible at all.” Sally finally spoke up. The sorceress was only making it worse the longer she persevered.

“Fine, fine. Shock, recreate the salve with less ground newt and a little olive oil. I need to go back to bed. We are closing for the day.”

“But you made the salve without me. I don't know what to put in it. And what about Harlequin? He’ll be here soon, and of course we have a… erh…staff meeting this morning.” Shock stumbled over the words with exasperation. 

Maris shrugged from where she held her head. Sally could not imagine how horrible of a headache she must have. Sally was not stupid; she knew that Maris came to town as a demon. Taking that horrid elixir to suppress it was only making it worse. If Maris wanted to feel better, she would have to get over her qualms and let the demoness inside out. 

After a moment of silence Maris answered, “Dean seems to have a good nose. He can help you.” she turned her gaze in his direction, pleading. He nodded.

“I would be glad to be of assistance.” he assured her. Sally didn't miss the twinkle of gratitude in her expression. 

“As for Harlequin, stay at the shop until he arrives. The charge is five silver pumpkin seeds. Accept no less, and forget about the meeting. We’ll deal with that tomorrow. Once you have done all of this, you are dismissed. Now, if you'll excuse me, I must rest.” With that said, Maris stood on shaky legs, using the desk for support. Dean placed a hand on her shoulder as he had not left his position next to the chair. Maris shrugged it off. 

“That won't be necessary. My dizziness has passed.” Her words were meant to be assuring, but they lost all merit as she stumbled, stifling a yelp of surprise. Dean caught her again. 

His brow creased with worry, “I believe it is necessary.” Maris sighed in defeat as she clung to him for purchase. 

“Come on, then. Where to?” 

“My room. I need more sleep. I can direct you. Through this door.” Sally watched them go through the door that lead to the rest of the house. But before they made it through the exit, Sally watched realization dawn on Jack. 

“Wait just a moment now, you two.” Maris and Dean paused where they stood. 

“Before we leave, I must inform you that there will be a town meeting tonight and I would appreciate your attendance.”

“Of course. I will be there, but I can’t make any promises for Shock.” Maris answered. Shock rolled her eyes.

“Oh fine, I’ll go. But I won't like it.” she grumbled.The Pumpkin King smiled as if he knew a joke that no one else did. 

“That’s all I ask of you, Shock. Have a horrid day! Oh, Dean! I almost forgot. Do you know the way back to the manor from here?”

“Yes, I believe I can manage.” he responded as Maris lead him through the door.

“Excellent! Shall go, dear?”

“I suppose so. I really need to get back and make sure Lyn’s stitches are holding up and that Nick still feels better.”

“Alright, then. Good day, Shock! It was most horrifying to see you!” 

“Yeah, whatever.” Shock observed her sculpture. 

 

The sound of a closing door signified the royal couple’s exit as Shock rested her chin in her hand, drumming her fingers on the wood of the desk. 

What the hell was all of that? Sure Maris didn't look that awful when Shock first got there, but one look at Dean and Maris just about fainted. It was almost as if she had seen a ghost. 

So, the new arrival was a demon that could tell what ingredients were in salve just by smelling and, apparently, had the ability to make Maris weak in the knees. She didn't blame Maris; he was charming. Even Shock couldn't deny that. 

The best part of all of this was that Shock was off the hook for the prank. For now. The bad news was that now she had a town meeting to sit through where she would be bored to death tonight. That was just fan-freaking-tastic. 

At least Lock didn't show up today like he promised. The sun had fully risen when the trio got home, meaning Shock got miniscule sleep, if any. Lock was one of those people that needed nine hours a night to function, but some beauty sleep didn't hurt. Needless to say, he crashed the minute they got back and would be out for hours, yet. 

These thoughts were interrupted when Dean came back in the shop with an armful of ingredients. 

“Alright, this is everything we need for a successful head-spinning salve.” he announced. 

“So I guess we should get to it.” Shock shrugged, joining him as he laid out the objects on the desk.


	5. Chapter 5

November 1, 2007 later that afternoon

Laying in bed had not eased her mind nearly as much as she would have wished it would. Maris’s mind was still spinning from the morning’s events.

She had initially felt ill from taking the elixir. This was nothing new; she had expected this. What she had not expected was to find Adam standing in her shop. If she had not been ill and had gotten over her initial shock, she might have jumped into his arms then and there.

Perhaps her illness was for her benefit in this case. It was painfully clear that Adam, just like ninety-nine percent of the locals, had no memory of his previous life. There was no Maris, no Lawrence, no Millicent, or Reyna, or anyone or anything from the human world.

Nothing but magic, that is. Potions was the only thing of his life he seemed to recall. Just as Maris possessed her magic in her second life, Adam’s own skills had carried over to this world.

She thought of how he rescued her salve. Olive oil, of course it was olive oil. It worked well as a household lubricant, so Maris figured it wasn't much of a stretch to believe that olive oil acting as a lubricant would work well for Harlequin’s salve. She only hoped that Adam, erh Dean, was right.

When Maris was still alive she had believed that the dead didn't feel. That they were numb, and, at first, that was how she had felt after the collision.

She remembered her nerves screaming, jarred out of their place. After all, that’s all that pain was: nerves signaled by the brain to become searing pain. By that time the pain was so great that she begged for it to end. And it did.

Ever so slowly the pain ebbed away into an enclosing numbness that overcame her. A numbness that cradled her in unfeeling bliss until even that began to fade. Her vision had already failed her by then, casting everything into a black abyss. Her mind, however, had not quite but was almost shut off forever. When it did turn off it did so in the manner of an old television. All coherent thought suddenly shriveled into nothing but a small white dot, which dwindled for a moment before finally shutting off. In that last moment Maris had heard something, but it wasn't her own mind. It was singing. She could recall the haunting voices even now.

Boys and girls of every age,

Wouldn't you like to see something strange?

Come with us and you will see

This our town of halloween

This is halloween, this halloween…

Then there was nothing.

That was how Maris felt now; numb, but not in the way she had before. Oh no, before the pain had been so great that empty numbness was a blessing. Now it hurt so much that she was numb with unfeeling.

She thought this place would be grand, that even though she didn't have her family, she would make the most of it and enjoy herself. Now she realized she had been a fool. What a dirty trick.

This was no paradise. It was hell after all. It had taken a long time for Maris to adjust to life on her own again. To not cry herself to sleep each night. To learn to not expect to wake up curled next to Adam as she had the last twenty years. To learn to not call the children down for breakfast for they would not be there. To not expect to greet Eleanor, who would be making the coffee and a little tea for herself, when Maris entered the kitchen.

What a cruel town. Here she was, coping with not seeing her family again while the cruel force of this town selected Adam to join her here. It should have been a joy and it was for only an instant. Why would he remember her? Maris didn't know any other townspeople, though she had been told there are, with their memories intact. Just as quickly as he had been presented as a blessing he was revealed to be a curse.

She was only a blindspot in his memories of magic and potions. Though he looked and acted the same as always, he would never be Adam. He was Dean now and the sooner she accepted that the better.

Maris sighed as she sat up in her bed in her room. Her real room as opposed to the guest room downstairs she had occupied the last few nights.

She had opted for that room originally since it was on the main floor, but she had made the mistake of calling it the guest room.

This was a mistake because she had also made the mistake of marrying a gentleman so once the words ‘guest room’ fell out of her mouth, he insisted on leading her to her bedroom.

“No, it’s upstairs and I don't think I can make it up like this.” she had explained, tightening her grip on him as the guest room spun.

“Yes, you are in no condition to go upstairs, but that's not a problem.” he had assured her. Before she could protest he had scooped her up into his smudgy arms.

“Lead the way.”

And so she, reluctantly, did. She gave him the directions to her room  
“Take a right through the dining room, this door on the left.”

“This looks like a guest room.” he had challenged her after opening the door to the room Maris had been occupying recently.

“It is, but we need to cut through here. That door on the wall to your right.” he followed her instructions to the next room.

“Whoa,” Adam let out a low whistle. They had reached Maris’s private study.

“Yes, yes it’s impressive. We need to keep moving.”

“Oh, right. Where to?” Maris then pointed to the bookshelf that covered the left wall.

“There is a copy of Paradise Lost on that shelf. Pull it.” He did and his jaw dropped in awe as the massive shelf spun open, revealing a hidden room. Sure enough, a spiral staircase took up the secret passage. He carried them up the narrow, encircling steps to the second landing of the home.

“Keep going. It’s the first door on your right.”

Without a word, he traveled the red hallway until he reached said door and crossed the threshold to gray carpet and purple walls, lacey curtains fluttering in the breeze.

“Here you are, miss.” he announced as he shifted her to his shoulder so that he could pull the covers back before gently laying her down on the bed.

“Thank you.” she breathed through a sigh of relief.

“Do you need anything else, miss?”

“Nope. Nothing at all.” she answered as exhausted eyelids drooped shut.

Mission completed, Adam had closed the door as quietly as possible before retracing his steps, and, finally allowing Maris to rest.

Unfortunately it had not been the most restful sleep, but it would have to do. She got out of bed and smoothed down her dress as she left the room.

She strolled down the ruby red hallway to the great room beyond the short passage. The narrow red walls opened up to much wider walls spotted with windows to allow the pumpkin sun’s rays to light up the room. A granite island stood in the middle and wooden cupboards lined the walls of the kitchen portion of the great room. Beyond that was the parlor, outfitted with a fireplace, couch, and a baby grand. A collection of photos sat among the mantle, and more were hung, suspended on the walls.

There were not words to express how relieved Maris was that she had kept Adam from wandering farther down the hall. She was not prepared to explain why she had pictures of him in her house. She kept these photos in the secluded floor of the house on purpose. No one, not even Shock, knew how to get up here; except Dean, and she wished to keep it that way.

So there was only one thing to do: take down any pictures that Adam was in. She needed to put them away should he come back up here. This was highly unlikely to happen, but it had already happened once, and once was too stressful to repeat.

It was through this act of hiding images of Adam that Maris realized that she had unconsciously made up her mind of what to do about him. She would start over.

Maris decided that she was not going to tell Adam, no Dean. She was not going to tell Dean that she knew him in her first life. Adam was no more. Dean may be wearing his face and personality, but he was not Adam. He did not love her like Adam had. She knew that she could not tell him because he acted like Adam. If she told Dean that they had been married during their mortal lives, it would weigh on him. He would feel obligated to be that man for her again.

Maris did not want that. She did not want him to think that he must love her because he once did. No, she could not give him that burden. Their love was in the past and it was going to stay there.

Once all evidence of Adam’s existence had been hidden, Maris checked the time on the old grandfather clock that stood in the corner. Seeing that its face read 7:23, Maris immediately fled down the stairs and through the shop. Before leaving she addressed the talking head that announced when someone came inside.

“Byrne, hold down the fort. Monitor anyone trying to come in.” She did not stay long enough to catch his reply as she exited and took the steps down to the cobblestone street.

 

By the time Shock stepped out of the giant bird cage of an elevator, the boys were beginning to stir out of their slumber. Well, Barrel was at least. 

Lock, on the other hand, was a deep sleeper. The devil could sleep through anything. One time a thunderstorm raged so loud that the entire treehouse shook, and, after an unfortunate lightning strike, caught fire. Lock would have slept through the entire thing if his cohorts hadn't made him get up to help them extinguish the flames and rebuild. 

“Oh good. At least one of your lazy asses got up.” Shock frowned disapprovingly at the ratty old couch, where Lock was snoring away. 

“Why do you care if we’re up or not? It’s November. It's not like anything important is going on, or we have anything to do.” Barrel retorted as he retreated to the kitchen to scavenge for breakfast, not caring that it was much too late to even be considered breakfast time. 

“It’s funny you say that because we actually do have something to do.” Shock supplied once Barrel returned with an open box of Spider Eggs Crunch. 

“Wha wu tha be?” he questioned in a bored voice, speaking through his cereal crammed mouth. 

“There’s a town meeting tonight.” the witch groaned. 

“Fwantastic,” Barrel’s voice dripped of sarcasm as he threw another handful of cereal into his mouth, “Abou wha?” 

“The newcomer.”   
“Oh, him.”   
“Yeah, another demon,” she was cut off by a particularly loud snore, “Just wonderful.” Lock’s snoring continued and grew in an annoyance that grated on Shock’s nerves. 

“That’s it. Barrel, where’s your lollipop?”   
“Don't you dare touch my lollipop!”   
“I’ll touch whatever I want!” and with that she took off for Barrel’s room. 

“No! Shock!” Barrel raced after her, determined to save his precious lollipop. Unfortunately for the young witch, Barrel was faster and stronger. He had her pinned just as she crossed the threshold of his room. 

“Let...go, fatty.” 

“No! And don't call me fatty. I’m not fat anymore!” 

“What are you going to do about it?” she snorted. Barrel pulled at her long hair. 

“Ow! I just wanted to choke him, damn it!” Barrel dropped the lock of hair.

“What?”

“With the lollipop. I just wanted to make Lock choke on your lollipop. It would have been hilarious, and it would have woken him up.” 

“Why do you care if he’s sleeping or not? Did you miss him already? I mean, I know you're in love with him or something, but that's just pathetic.”

“Ew, no! No, I do not! It's just that I’ve been up since about nine, and I only slept for like three hours so that I could earn an income for us. Why should he get to sleep all day while I slave away at work and then do everything around here when I get back? How is that fair?” It was at this moment that Shock was grateful that her face was pinned to the ground so that Barrel couldn't see how her cheeks colored as she stumbled for an explanation. Not that she had to think that hard for one; it was true. Missing Lock had not been the problem. She was too mad right now for that. A voice interrupted her thoughts. 

“You guys started a fight already? Without me?” Moths circled around her stomach. Lock had finally woken up. Barrel took the opportunity to scramble up onto his feet and race to the lollipop. 

“It’s about time you got up, Sleeping Beauty?” the witch snorted, straightening her clothes as she stood up, and then internally cringed at her poor word choice.

“What does it matter to you if I sleep or not?” Shock was not in the mood for this, but she knew that she could not dodge the question. 

“There’s a Town Meeting tonight and we have to go.”

“That’s it?” Lock questioned in an incredulous voice, “You’re getting so worked up about a stupid meeting?”

“I don’t like it any better than you, but Jack said that we have to be there.” That shut the Devil up quick. Many things had changed over the years, but Jack’s ability to control the trick-or-treaters was one of the few things that remained the same. Though the trio would never admit, they still thought that Jack was terrifying and they would do anything to stay on Jack’s good side. Of course, they tested him to see where exactly the line was, but they did not wish to ever cross it. 

“Fine. When is it?” 

“Well since your lazy ass has been asleep all day, we should probably actually get going.” Shock sneered. Lock groaned at this and cursed under his breath.

“This is the worst day ever.” 

“Are you serious? You haven’t done anything at all until now. What is there to complain about?”

“A Town Meeting.”

“Yeah, it’ll be as boring as usual, but they aren’t usually longer than an hour.” 

“That’s an hour longer than I can handle.” Barrel groaned around his lollipop, rejoining his cohorts. Shock laid a hand on his shoulder.

“Stay strong, soldier. We’ll make it out alive. Somehow.” with that, the witch took the front, leading the troops to the Town Square. 

 

The three friends had no problem sneaking their way up onto the rafters of the Town Hall. It was their usual spot, with the best view of the stage. Not that they cared what was going on, really, but if they had to be at some stupid old meeting, then they may as well have the best seats. 

A beam creaked under Barrel as he took his place.

“You might want to lay off on the sweets unless you want to fall and get mauled by Glen.” Lock quipped as Barrel adjusted his location to a place with no creaky beams. He took his lollipop out of his mouth in order to respond.

“Shut up, it’s just a bad spot. Do you realize how old this building is? There’s a lot of rotten spots up here now.”

“Whatever you say, Barrel, you can call it whatever you want, but we all know the truth.”

“Will you two shut up! It’s starting.” Shock commanded. Sure enough, the Mayor dimmed the lights as the Pumpkin King and the rest of the royal family took the stage; Sally at Jack’s side, Nick, the oldest and his heir, on the other, Lyn was next to her mother, and little Polly was cradled in Sally’s arms. 

The murmuring crowd quieted as they noticed the light change and the royal family’s appearance. Jack shuffled his notes and took hold of the podium before launching into his speech.  
“Good-bye one hour of my life. I’ll miss you.” Lock muttered under his breath and cursed once Shock smacked him. This was going to be a long meeting.


	6. Chapter 6

November 1, 2007 The Meeting

 

The Town Hall walls echoed with the chatter of the creatures, who were bustling about, in search of an acquaintance and a good seat, as Maris reached the stone steps, leading up to the entrance. Though the meeting wouldn’t start for another twenty minutes, the place was already quite crowded. At one corner of the room, the witch sisters, Helgamine and Zeldabourne, cackled at some joke that the Clown with the Tear-Away Face must have told them. A couple zombies were discussing the weather, a topic Maris found rather boring as it was gray all year round.

Maris scanned the room for a seat that was not too close the front. She had never been known to draw attention upon herself, and the last thing she needed was to be seated front and center where Dean would notice her. 

She finally decided on a seat in the back next to the Grim Reaper, but a tugging at the skirt of her dress kept her from claiming her seat. Maris turned to see Polly, the youngest of the Skellington children, gripping the fabric of her skirt as tight as her round little hands would let her. The ragdoll child released the fabric as she noticed that she had gotten the sorceress’s attention, and lifted up her chubby arms.

“Hello there.” Maris smiled as she picked up the small ragdoll, balancing her on her hip. Polly was a child a little over three with curling auburn hair and big blue fabric eyes that covered the deep pits of her eye sockets hidden under the cloth. 

It was a design that Sally had provided for all of three of the Skellington children when they were only toddlers. She stitched skin to be dressed over the bones they had been born with and stuffed the space between bone and cloth with leaves, an extra layer of protection for their young, fragile bones. While Lyn did not mind this design and decided to keep her skin, a decision that resulting in Sally spending many night stitching new skins for the growing girl, Nicholas had hated his skin, so on his seventh birthday, when the skin was pulling a bit too tight over his growing skeleton, Sally sliced the skin open, freeing the boy from his linen prison. 

Maris hoped that Polly would not shed her skin. The leave-stuffed fabric gave the girl the effect of having flesh, and with her current design making her plump as any toddler would be reminded Maris of the days when she could hold her own children in this manner. She knew it was selfish to wish such a thing, but the thought would not hurt anyone. 

The child only placed her soft, slightly itchy, burlap hands on Maris’s face, exploring the sorceress’s features. Maris did not mind. She was only happy to hold a child again. This seemed to be a mutual agreement. Where Maris saw an opportunity to reminisce, the child saw a friend. 

Polly had chosen Maris as her new playmate shortly after Maris arrived in town when the girl was only months old. While Maris was living with Jack and Sally, as she had for a brief period of time when she was first getting her bearings of the town and its purpose, Polly had crawled into the stranger’s lap and began to tug on her long hair; she was quite fascinated by Maris’s long dark locks. 

“She likes long hair.” Sally chuckled warmly at the sight of the newcomer cradling Polly as she yanked on the woman’s hair. Suddenly Maris winced and the child squealed as she held up the prize lock of hair she had pulled out of Maris’s hair. Sally could not hide her smile at the sight.

“I should have warned you that likes to do that, too.”

“Oh, good! She found you. I was worried where she had run off to! She’s getting faster every day!” Maris looked up to see the Pumpkin Queen, slightly out of breath, standing in front of her. Upon seeing her mother, the toddler reached out her arms.

“Yeah, they grow up so fast.” Maris smiled warmly as she handed the little princess to Sally. Polly squirmed in her mother’s arms, trying to find the ideal way to lay in the ragdoll’s arms. 

“Did you have any children?” Sally inquired. Maris paused, caught off guard by the question.

“Oh, I don’t mean to impose. You don’t have to answer. I know it’s hard for you to talk about…”

“No, no it’s fine. I had, have, two living in the human world.” Maris answered. 

“I thought so. Polly has taken such a liking to you, you’re good with children, and it’s impressive how you have mentored Shock. I would be quite surprised if you hadn’t left any little ones behind.”

“Well, they’re aren’t exactly what you would call little.” Maris added sheepishly.

“What do you mean?” Sally questioned.

“They would be twenty and fifteen now.”

“Oh!” the ragdoll’s eyes widened in surprise. Maris could guess what Sally was imagining. She knew that look. She knew that Sally had done the math to get an idea of how old Maris had been. It was the same look people had given her about twenty years ago. She had seen it on other people when grocery shopping. She would pretend not to notice as they eyed her and then eyed the baby in his carrier, perched on top of the shopping cart. She had endured the judging glances of the other moms when she picked up Lawrence from preschool. Even when he had grown up a bit and had started attending Elementary School, his teachers seemed to raise an eyebrow when they came face to face with two adults who looked as if they were fresh out of college. 

She was used to it by now, but the familiarity of the look did not ease its sting. 

“It wasn’t like that.” Maris defended.

“Whatever do you mean?” Sally questioned innocently, trying to pretend she did not know what Maris meant.

“You know what I mean.” Maris deadpanned. 

“That you were young when you had your first child? Yes, I understand that, but you must understand that I know close to nothing about human culture. What do you mean ‘it wasn’t like that’? What wasn’t it like?”

“Well,” Maris paused, wondering what the best way to explain to a Halloween citizen, who was, technically, only slightly older than her teenage daughter, what people thought when they saw a pregnant young woman, who looked to be barely out of high school. What they would call her behind her back, or sometimes, to her face. That they would later use her as a cautionary tale to their teenage children, “Many societies, at least where I am from, frown on women having children before they have married. As you can imagine, it’s quite scandalous. When people see a younger woman with a baby, they start making bad assumptions about her. Even if they later learned that she is married, they would then assume that the marriage was meant to cover up the scandal.” Sally nodded along during her explanation.

“You married very young then, did you not?” Though it was a question, it sounded more like a statement.

“I was eighteen.” Maris affirmed.

They were quiet for a moment. Citizens bustled around them, hunting down the last of the seats. 

“We’re your parents at least supportive of your choices?” Sally finally asked in a small voice once she had processed what Maris had said. Maris did not blink or hesitate.

“They never knew. My mother kicked me out of the house when I was thirteen.”

“What! What kind of mother would do that?! Why?!” Maris jumped, surprised by the anger in Sally’s tone.

“She claims it was because of my sorcery,” Maris shrugged, “but, to be honest, I do not think she ever particularly cared for me.” The ragdoll was dumbstruck and at a loss for words.

While this was not a lie, it was only half true. From a young age Maris had detected that her mother did not like her, but she had not thought anything of it because her mother did not seem to like any of her nine sibling either, and Maris didn’t blame her. They were loud, energetic, and awful children, always screaming, running around the house, and fighting each other; especially her older brothers. The ten children were aware that they were terrible and they embraced their ability to annoy their mother any minute they could. They were not so different from the Boogie Boys, except there were ten Burrow children and only three Boogie Boys. 

Her three oldest siblings, known as the “golden trio” have reported of days when their mother had been a different, happier person. It was these kinds of shocking reports of past events that earned them their nickname. As the other siblings considered these years the “golden years” of being in the Burrow Family.

It was a shocking fact that Maris still could not quite wrap her mind around. No matter how hard she tried, she could never imagine her mother as someone who was not the unbearably strict, dispositionally irritated, tyrant from her childhood. 

While her mother was definitely perpetually annoyed at something the ten of them had done, around the age of ten Maris had come to the realization that she was getting some extra negative energy from her mother. She began to consider that her mother’s contempt for her was deeper than only her tendency to be “obnoxious and energetic.” As she thought back to try to remember when it had first started, she had come to the conclusion that it must have happened sometime when she was nine and had made the mistake of telling her mother that ghosts would follow her and talk to her; more specifically, Aunt Amarie was talking to her.

The ghosts had first started talking to her when she was eight years old when great aunt Amarie died. She was her father’s aunt, he, and Maris, had loved her very much. Maris could recall visiting Aunt Amarie with her parents when she was very young. Aunt Amarie used to tell many great stories about magic and monsters, and, sometimes, ghosts. The stories never ceased to captivate her. Maris used to dream of a magical world where she would be happy. A favorite of hers was how Aunt Amarie would talk about how she still spoke with her husband Ulysses, who had died before Maris was born. 

Her mother, on the other hand, was not a fan of Aunt Amarie. Maris could remember that once she had left her aunt’s house, her mother would make sure that Maris understood that Amarie was getting old and her mind was falling apart. She would say that Amarie was delusional and that none of those things were real. Her mother had told her she was being silly and that there was no such things as ghosts. Looking back, Maris wondered if her mother was disturbed by the comment that Maris was seeing ghosts, including her great aunt. 

Considering that her mother kicked Maris out at the age of thirteen when she caught Maris practicing witchcraft in her room, it was not much of a stretch. 

Her father was a different story. He worked many hours and did not come home until nearly supper time. Maris and her siblings never saw much of him, except for weekends and some holidays. He was a kind man by all means, but he was also rather ignorant of what life at home was like when he was away. Though he was exhausted most of the time he loved all of his children. The personality difference of each parent was quite startling. He was rarely annoyed by them and he never showed any animosity against Maris. If anything, Maris suspected that she was his favorite, though he never admitted to anything when she would ask him in an unoccupied part of the house. Her sister, Maxine, had a theory that his hectic work life had spared him from becoming bitter and irritated like their mother. Maris found this to be an interesting idea, but she had a theory of her own concerning her father’s love and her mother’s hatred of her. 

“You should probably take a seat soon. The meeting is about to start, though it will not, exactly, last too long.” Sally smiled, gesturing to the stage that Jack would soon take to.

“What do you mean it won’t last long.” Maris inquired with a raised brow.

“Oh, yes,” the ragdoll exclaimed excitedly, “I’m probably not supposed to tell you this, but Jack has already decided on a home for our new citizen. The meeting is more of a formality, and an opportunity for any last minute volunteers to speak up and to hear any last minute ideas before he announces who he has in mind. Of course, their would have to be a mutual agreement between the Halloween citizen and the new arrival before we can settle the matter.”

“Right, of course.” Jack already had someone in mind? Who could he have possibly come up with? Unless someone has already volunteered? 

Maris had finally taken her seat in the back next to the Grim Reaper as the house lights dimmed and the stage light illuminated the podium where Jack stood, shuffling his notes. Sally was on his left, Nick, the oldest and his heir, on the other, Lyn was next to her mother, and little Polly was cradled in Sally’s arms. Maris was a bit surprised at their speed. Not even a minute had passed since Sally had bid her good-bye and now the whole family was assembled onstage in support of the Pumpkin King. 

“Thank you, everyone, for coming out here tonight! I am hoping to not take up too much of your evening, so without further ado, please allow me to introduce you to our newest citizen, Gerald Dean!” Jack announced as the family parted in front of the curtain to allow Dean to make his entrance onto the stage. The citizens hooted, hollered, and clapped as they welcomed him. Maris fidgeted in her seat, uncomfortable with seeing him. She joined in the applause to not appear rude, but she could not squash the strong feeling to bolt out of the town hall and keep running until she could lock herself in her house. 

“Hello, everyone. Thank you for making me feel so welcome to your town as I try to figure things out.” Dean smiled as he addressed the crowd. He stepped aside, allowing Jack to resume his speech. 

“Now, as you all know Mr. Dean arrived last night and has been lodging at Skellington Manor. Now normally this kind of arrangement could last up to about six months, or as needed, until the citizen is comfortable with life in our horrible town. However, Mr. Dean and I have discussed it and we believe that would be better taken care of in other hands.” whispers scattered across the room as the citizens puzzled over the possible reason for this. Maris snuck a glance at the Grim Reaper beside her. Maris could not read his expression, but he seemed indifferent about Jack’s announcement. Perhaps he overheard what Sally told her?

Suddenly, Greg, the short, red devil, stood up, “I would be happy to take him in, Jack.” he offered in his deep voice. 

“Thank you, Greg, but actually…” 

“We will do it, Jack!” Zeldabourne climbed on top of her seat to be seen over the citizens in front of her.

“That’s very kind of you, but…” Jack gestured for the crowd to settle down.

“Oh, it would be no trouble at all! We could use another hand in the shop, Jack!” Helgamine assured him. Other eager citizens volunteered as well. Maris watched as Jack slowly kept losing control over the audience until Nick stomped over to the podium.

“Silence!” he demanded. At once the chattering stopped as the citizens sheepishly sat back down. 

“Thank you for quieting down, everyone.” Jack let out a sigh of relief as he took over his podium. 

“If you would please let me finish, I shall have you know that I have already made my decision. As long as they agree, of course.” The citizens sat still in anticipation for Jack to make the announcement. “I have decided to house Mr. Dean with a citizen of his species. At first I believed this to be the vampires, but as Mr. Dean and I began to converse, I made the realization that I was wrong and that the vampire attire must have been a costume.” Maris raised an eyebrow. Jack thought that Dean was a vampire? He had horns and a tail. Unless Jack was referring to Halloween night when he would have first met Dean. Maris guessed that this could be possible considering how dark it can get at night in Halloweentown.

“I soon realized my mistake and that he was, indeed a demon.” Jack silenced Greg before he could say anything.

“Although it became clear to me that Mr. Dean is a demon, I have decided to not house him with you for other reasons.” Jack answered. Now Maris was intrigued. There were not many demons in Halloweentown. Considering the lack of choices, Maris was surprised that Jack had not picked Greg for the job. The only other demon she could think of was Lock, but Jack would never pick him. 

“And so, after a lot of thought, I have made my decision. Miss Maris, would you accept this honor?” Her stomach dropped to the floor as every eye in the room turned to look at her in shock. No one said anything for a few minutes as everyone internally questioned Jack’s decision.

Why her? Why did Jack have to pick her? But she did not have to ask. She already knew why.

“Well, Miss Maris, what do you say?” Jack’s question brought her back to the present. Of course. The citizens were waiting for her to accept or decline Jack’s offer. 

“It would be an honor, Jack.” she smiled while glaring at Jack, letting him see the venom in her eyes. He was taken aback for a fraction of a second before plastering a smile on top.

“How terrifying! It’s settled then. We shall give you the night to prepare for your guest before we arrive in late in the morning with Mr. Dean’s things.” Jack informed her. The citizens clapped politely, still puzzling over Jack’s decision, as was Maris. 

The meeting continued as Jack began to explain the Christmas decorating schedule that would begin later on in the week. Halloweentown had an odd fascination for Christmas considering it was Halloweentown, but Maris did not mind. She had always loved Christmas and was glad that it was not something she had lost in death. Her attention wandered as she heard a creaking noise from somewhere up in the rafters. She peered around the room. No one else seemed to have noticed the sound. Maybe she was only overreacting? 

A few minutes later, Maris heard it again, only louder. This time other citizens also paused as the groan filled the whole room. Now there were many creatures searching for the source of the noise until Maris found it.

“Get down!” she hollered, pushing the Grim Reaper aside and moving out of the way as the groan became a splitting crack as Barrel fell to the aisle below. Lock and Shock’s cackles could be heard from the rafters as the ghoul glared back at them.


	7. Chapter 7

November 2, 2007 

10:27 a.m.

Lawrence adjusted his shirt color over the hastily tied tie. He was running behind on schedule. They needed to be at the courthouse by 11a.m. He wanted to be leaving right now, but he needed to wait for Millicent and Aunt Ella to be ready and he, himself, was barely ready to go. He raced down the hall to his sister’s bedroom and pounded his fist against the wooden door. 

“Millie, let’s go! We’re going to be late!” he warned

“Just a sec. The curling iron is being stupid.” curling iron? 

“Your hair is already curly. What do you need a curling iron for?” The door swung open, revealing Millicent in a light blue blouse and dress pants. Lawrence could tell she had avoided using her normal “smoky eyes” look, or whatever she called it, as she had kept the eyeliner thinner than usual. He guessed her black curls were bit more styled than usual, but he could not see any real difference.

“How do I look?” she struck a pose.

“Fine. We gotta go.” he rushed down the hall to the stairs. 

“Oh come on, bro. Don’t be like that. I never get to dress up!” she hurried after him on her little two-inch heels.

“So what you’re saying is that you’re excited to go to our father’s Reading of the Will?” he whirled on her. Millicent’s expression crumpled as she halted at the base of the stairs. 

“Of course not. The last thirty-six hours have been hard for me, too. But when I get to dress up, I don’t know, it just makes me feel better to make myself look good. I guess it’s just something that I can control.” a tear leaked out of his sister’s eye. Lawrence sighed. Now he felt bad for upsetting his sister. Why did he have to make her cry? Of course she was having a hard time. Why would he question that?

“Don’t cry,” he closed the distance between them and wrapped his arms around her, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.” They stayed like that for a moment before Millicent pulled back. 

“We really do need to go.” Millicent stated.

“Yeah, we’ll probably be late by this point.” he agreed.

The siblings crossed through the living room to the adjacent kitchen where Aunt Ella was waiting for them. She offered a small smile to her niece and nephew as they greeted her, but she said nothing. Lawrence noticed an oddness in her smile and he guessed that she had heard the exchange between him and Millie. 

“Shall we?” she asked, cutting right to the chase. Both siblings nodded as they left the house and piled into Lawrence’s car. Aunt Ella got in the driver’s side and turned the ignition. It was odd for Lawrence to sit in the passenger seat of his own car instead of driving, but Aunt Ella had much more driving experience, and since they were late she was more likely to get the three of them to the courthouse fast while still driving safely. No one questioned why they had not taken Dad’s car instead. No one felt like it was a good idea. It just had not felt right. The family had done something similar after Mom passed away. After avoiding her vehicle for a while, Dad had decided to sell it, claiming that they did not need three vehicles, especially if no one wanted to drive one of them. Lawrence leaned against his seat and blankly stared out the window as Aunt Ella wordlessly drove to their destination.

Aunt Ella was a woman of little words, but she had affection to go around. She was an odd contrast from Lawrence’s mother, who, though loving, could come across as cold at times. Aunt Ella and Dad had both once said that Mom had had a rough childhood, which did not make sense to Lawrence. If Mom’s childhood was so terrible, why was Aunt Ella alright? Aunt Ella was the kindest and most loving person he could think of and she was Mom’s sister. She was raised by the same parents as Mom had been. Of course he knew that it had to do with Mom’s powers, but Aunt Ella also had powers, granted, she was not nearly as powerful as his mother. His aunt and mother were both powerful sorceresses. Was it just a difference in personality, or had something else happened? 

Lawrence’s thoughts were interrupted once he noticed that the car had stopped moving. 

“Well, here we are!” Aunt Ella announced as she turned off the car and opened her door. Lawrence and Millicent robotically followed suit, opening their doors and climbing out to face the towering courthouse before them. The three of them had started the trek up the marble stairs to the door when they heard the sound of parking vehicles behind them. 

Lawrence turned around to see his dad’s side of the family pull up. This would be the second time this week that he had seen his father’s side of the family, which was an odd feat. Mom and dad had moved away from their childhood town in Virginia and drove off into the sunset to somewhere new. In the end they had settled in a West Virginia town that was hours away from their childhood. Lawrence was sure that his dad had missed his family, but it was hard to tell since Lawrence could count on one hand how many times he had met the people in front of him. He had never met his mother’s family. 

“Slow down! Do you expect me to run after you? My legs haven’t been the same since that little incident back in ‘96! People these days, running everywhere. Do they ever sleep?” Grandma Evans was making a careful, and very slow, ascent up the stairs, leaning heavily on her cane. 

“Oh, shut up, you old bat.” that came from Aunt Reyna, who was at Grandma Evans’s side, keeping an eye on her to make sure that the old woman did not lose her balance or her footing.

“Hi, grandma! Hi, Aunt Reyna!” Millicent waved from the stairs above the two older women.

“Look, Prudence, it’s Millicent and Lawrence, your great-grandchildren. Why don’t you say hi?” Aunt Reyna suggested to her sister-in-law.

“Florence? Honey, she died thirty years ago!”

“No, Lawrence. You know, Adam’s son.”

“Adam’s son? He has a son? Why, last I heard he was just a teenager. When did he have a son? Oh, I haven’t seen my grandson in years. Is he going to be here, too, Reyna?” 

“No, Mom. That’s why we’re here.” This came from Grandma Evanses son, Adam’s father. The man was in his sixties with thinning, grey hair and narrow spectacles. 

“George, be patient. She’s an old woman. Her memory is not what is used to be.” his wife, a chubby woman with greying brown hair, chided him.

“But I can still hear better than a hawk, Marcy!” the elderly lady shouted at her daughter-in-law. 

“Is that some weird old saying?” Millicent whispered quietly enough so that only Lawrence and Aunt Ella could hear her. 

“I am not sure that it was ever a saying at all, darling.” Aunt Ella responded in a soft, but amused voice. 

“What are you whispering about up there, Maris?” Grandma Evans questioned as she neared them. Aunt Ella was shocked that the woman had heard her, nevermind confused her for her deceased older sister. Mayhaps the woman did have the ears of a hawk. 

“No, no I’m sorry, ma’am. I do not believe we have met. My name is Eleanor Ravensburrow. I’m actually Maris’s younger sister.” 

“Oh yes, of course. Silly me. Now that I can see you better it is quite clear that you do not have your sister’s looks. It’s quite a shame.” Grandma Evans stated once she reached the top of the stairs where Aunt Ella, Lawrence, and Millicent had been standing for the last few minutes as members of the Evans family showed up. Aunt Ella had paled considerably and Lawrence elbowed Millicent when he noticed she was struggling not to say something and gave her a look that let her know that it was not worth it to argue with their great-grandmother that they had met maybe only once before and would probably never see again after today. 

“Now, Prudence, was that really necessary. Eleanor’s a pretty girl. Just look at her.” Reyna consoled her sister-in-law once she reached the top of the stairs. George and Marcy were right behind her. 

“Well, I guess she doesn’t have those demony yellow eyes. That’s an improvement. It’s a shame, really, that it seems Maris has passed on such an undesirable trait to what must be her son over here. Just look at them! Does he expect to get a girlfriend with eyes that are such a hideous color?” she tsk her tongue in disapproval. 

“Well, actually I…” Lawrence started before his great-grandma cut him off. 

“I don’t know what Adam was thinking when he decided to run away and marry that pretty little witch. She probably took him to hell with her.” she turned to her sister. “Now that I think about it, weren’t they staying at your place, Reyna? You should have kept a better eye on them and not have left them alone for so long. You could have saved us a whole lot of trouble.” 

“What happened to your memory not being as good as it once was, Prudence?” Aunt Reyna questioned in a slightly irritated tone that suggested she was used to these types of insults. 

“When my grandson decides to run away with sone hussy demon girl he barely knows, that’s when!” Everyone was silent for a moment, uncomfortable with the tension that Grandma Evans had created. Lawrence was beyond agitated. It was becoming increasingly harder for him to take the advice he had just given Millicent. He was very close to not caring if she was old or if her mind wasn’t ‘what it used to be.’ How dare she talk about his family that way! 

“I think it’s time to head inside and get started, don’t you think?” Marcy Evans suggested. 

“I think that would be a great idea since we are already late. Come on, let’s go inside.” Aunt Ella agreed. The rest of the family mumbled awkward acquiescence as they began to shuffle inside the courthouse. 

Immediately upon entering the massive stone building, the Evans family (and Ella) were greeted by a man that Lawrence could only recall meeting once before today. The man was not too tall or too thin with light brown hair that had been combed back. He wore a three piece tan suit and carried a suitcase. He had a stern look on his face that suggested that they were all very late.

“Hello, you must be the Evans Family?” 

“Yes,” Lawrence responded first as he stepped forward to greet his parents’ lawyer, “Good morning, Mr. Henderson.” he said, shaking the man’s hand. 

“Well, I would like to say good morning to you, too, Mr. Evans, but it is no longer morning as you are all late.” 

“I’m sorry for any inconvenience we may have caused you. We ran into some...delays.” he tried to explain sheepishly.

“Perhaps next time you have an appointment, you will be careful to arrive early to be sure that you will be on time, won’t you, Mr. Evans.”

“Yes, of course.” the lawyer smiled.

“Good, then let’s get started. Follow me please.” he ordered as he strode out of the lobby and into an elevator, where the family squashed themselves together like uncomfortable sardines. When the elevator stopped moving, everyone breathed a sigh of relief as they unpacked themselves from the cramped metal box. Mr. Henderson led them down a couple hallways before stopping in front of a door with a glass window that read:

Mr. J Henderson

Estate Attorney

Mr. Henderson opened his office door and held it open to let the family file into the office. The contents of the office’s inside were very familiar to Lawrence, Millicent, and Aunt Ella since they could clearly remember when they sat in this same office three years ago after Mom passed away. Awards and his degree were framed and hung on the walls, a desk occupied the left side of the room when someone walked in. A placard sat on the front of the desk, reading the same thing that was printed on the glass window of the office door. A fairly sized picture window allowed some light into the room as the blinds had not been closed. A few plastic chairs had been arranged in a semi-circle for the family to sit in.

The Evanses and Ella each took a seat as Mr. Henderson sat down in the plush, black leather chair behind his desk. Everyone sat patiently as the estate attorney opened his briefcase and removed some documents. The lawyer pulled out a case from a draw and put on the reading glasses laying inside. He paged through the documents quickly, before straightening them out and laying them down on the desk. He put his hands together in his lap as he addressed the family.

“Good afternoon. As I am sure you all know, we are all here today to discuss the contents of the will of Adam James Evans. I have read this document very closely many times and I am quite sure that I have interpreted it in the way Mr. Evans has intended. Now, this should go smoothly, but this is a family in magic, which is a rather odd situation for me as I am not used to having clients involved in the, how do I put this, magical arts.” No one spoke.

“Right, well, I will now begin.” Mr. Henderson cleared his throat as he picked up the documents and pushed his glasses back up his nose. 

“This is the last Will and Testament of Adam James Evans. Born on Saturday, April 9 of 1966 to George Augustus Evans and Marcia Theresa (Anderson) Evans. Married September 28,1986 to Maris Amarie (Ravensburrow) Evans. Father of two children; Lawrence Elijah Evans (born August 10,1987) and Millicent Cassandra Evans (born February 6,1992).” a small gasp could be heard in the lawyer’s office. Mr. Henderson and everyone else’s head immediately turned to the source of the noise; Aunt Ella.

“Yes, Ms. Ravensburrow? Do you have something you would like to say?” Mr. Henderson did not sound amused.

“I’m sorry, it’s just that I don’t think I’ve ever heard the kids’ middle names before.” Aunt Ella tried to explain. Lawrence and Millicent shot a look of confusion at each other. What was so important about their middle names?

“What’s wrong about their middle names? They sound fine to me.” Marcy asked, as if she were trying to comfort Aunt Ella. 

“Well, they sure aren’t family names. It’s such a shame that he didn’t give any of them family names.” Grandma Evans contributed. 

“George is not exactly a popular name anymore, Mom.” George retorted.

“And Evan was only funny once. It was cruel to repeat it.” Aunt Reyna added. 

“There was an Evan Evans?” Millicent asked in an incredulous tone. 

“Oh, yes. There was quite a few of them! But, yes, as Reyna said it was a cruel joke. I decided to put an end to it when George was born. I was hoping that it could become a new family name, but someone decided that they did not want to name their son George.” Grandma Evans was glaring at Marcy. 

“Don’t put this all on me! It was a mutual agreement!” Marcy argued. 

“I wasn’t let in on this agreement.” Grandma Evans retorted.

“Because it wasn’t your decision to make, Mom.” George butted in.

“Now, now, everyone. Let’s settle down.” Aunt Reyna suggested. 

“Please.” Mr. Henderson agreed. At the sound of the judges voice, the squabble over family names ended at once. 

“Thank you. Now if you are finished, could we please continue doing what you all took time out of your busy schedules to do?” 

“Actually, sir, I would like to ask Eleanor about my grandchildrens’ middle names. I don’t believe I ever got my answer.” Marcy requested. Mr. Henderson rolled his eyes.

“Fine. Make it quick.” he acquiesced. Marcy turned expectantly to Eleanor.

“Well, what’s the importance between the names?” she prodded.

“Oh, it seems Maris and Adam named them after a couple of my older siblings, that’s all. I do not believe I have ever heard the middle names before because I have never made that connection before.” Aunt Ella shrugged. Marcy smiled.

“That’s lovely. Thanks for sharing.” she stated warmly. Everyone pretended not to hear Grandma Evans mutter something under her breath that sounded like ‘George would have been better’.

“Great. Now that that’s settled, can we please proceed with the reading?” Mr. Henderson asked trying to mask just how annoyed he was. And we haven’t even gotten to the part where everyone gets upset about someone else getting what they thought should be theirs, yet. He thought to himself. He gathered his papers again before continuing.

“‘My first matter of business is my car. I have thought long and hard over this decision. I remember what it was like when Maris passed away. She had left the car for us, but we just could not bear to drive it after she was gone. We eventually decided to sell it. Thinking back, I believe that I have made a mistake for selling the car. Though it pained me to see it every day, I think that she would have wanted us to keep it and to continue to make new memories in it. Because of this, I have decided to give my car to my daughter, Millicent Cassandra Evans,’” Mr. Henderson looked up at Millicent.

“Miss Evans, your father makes it clear that he wishes for you to have the car, but there is a complication with your father’s wish. Since you are under sixteen and cannot legally drive or own a car, what would you do with the car?”

“I can’t own it?” Millicent asked, trying to understand what was happening.

“You can own the car without a driver’s license, but you would not be able to do anything with it until you have turned sixteen and received your driver’s license. Would you like your car now?”

“Yes, I’ll take it. I can wait.” 

“Alright then, let’s see, what’s next. ‘On the topic of my daughter, if anything were to happen to me before her eighteenth birthday, I would trust her in the guardianship of her aunt, Eleanor R. Ravensburrow. As for the house, in my absence I pass the estate to my sister-in-law, Eleanor Ravensburrow. All financial assets shall be split evenly between my children, Lawrence Evans and Millicent Evans and they shall receive this money after their eighteenth birthday.’” There were a few gasps from the family at this. It seems that some of them had expected a cut from the Evans family trust. Mr. Henderson ignored this but looked at Millicent.

“Miss Evans, your father has requested that your half be in your aunt’s name if he were to pass away before your eighteenth birthday. You, or anyone, will not be able to touch this money until your eighteenth birthday when it can be placed in your name. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir.” she nodded. 

“Good. Let’s see here.” he trailed off. 

 

Their father’s will was rather long and had some random items included in it. Apparently, he had quite the collection of cookbooks, which he had given to his mother. There were some old models of classic cars that he had stashed somewhere that he had given to his father. His cassette collection was passed on to Lawrence, except for one specific Pink Floyd cassette that Adam claimed he had taken from home some years ago and wished to return to his father. There were many other arbitrary items being passed along, and Lawrence was hoping that this would end soon. 

“Mr. Evans,” Lawrence bolted upright at the mention of his name.

“Yes, sir?” he answered.

“Just making sure that you are still with us. There are only two last things left, and I think it would be best if you paid attention to them.”

“Of course, sir.” 

“Hmph” he sniffed, “Alright, last two items. ‘At this time I would like to pass down something that is probably not mine to will away. To my son, Lawrence Evans, I will my wife’s spellbook.’” If Lawrence was not paying attention before, he was now, and so was everyone else. Mom’s spellbook was a big deal. He did not know much about it, but he knew that his mother was very powerful and had learned part of what she knew from what the past writers of the spellbook had written. He also knew that Mom had edited and added to it. But he also knew that she was very protective of it. She did not even let Dad go through it, though she eventually did let him write down some of his potions. According to Dad, when she allowed him to write about potions, she would not let him write in the book until she found a bunch of blank pages and she had watched him the whole time to make sure that he did not peek at anything else written in the spellbook. And now it was his.

“‘Unfortunately, its location is currently unknown. I have not been able to locate the spellbook sometime after my wife’s passing. If it is ever to resurface, it is to be immediately turned over to Lawrence Evans,’” Mr. Henderson turned to Lawrence, “What the hell is that all about?”

“What do you mean?”

“Where is your mother’s spellbook?”

“I don’t know. She never let me near it.” 

“I don’t know if you remember this, but three years ago when we all read your mother’s will, she willed it to your father. And now it seems that your father has never received your mother’s spellbook. So, what do you know about this.” Mr. Henderson narrowed his eyes in suspicion. 

“Nothing. Mom always hid that book and never let anyone near it. She always said that it was dangerous.” Lawrence answered. Mr. Henderson still look skeptical but let it go.

“If it ever turns up, it’s yours, Mr. Evans. Moving on to the last bit of business here. ‘The last matter of this document that I wish to discuss is the business that my wife and I built together, Ravensburrow and Evans: Spells and Potions. Originally, my wife and I were the co-owners of this business, but after my wife’s passing I have become the sole owner of Ravensburrow and Evans. In my absence, I must name an heir to my business. I have thought carefully over my few options and have decided that my son, Lawrence Evans, shall become the owner of Ravensburrow and Evans: Spells and Potions after my death. That is all I have to give.’ Congratulations, Mr. Evans. Looks like you have just inherited the family business.” 

 

Lawrence was still in shock as he stood outside the courthouse with his aunt and sister. Grandpa and Grandma had left shortly after the conclusion of the reading, and Grandma Evans was waiting in the car as Aunt Reyna chatted with Aunt Ella and Millicent. 

“Lawrence, have you heard anything we have just said?” Aunt Ella asked him. He slipped out of his shock for a second.   
“No, I didn’t.” he admitted. 

“I’m considering moving in with all of you if your aunt will have me.” Aunt Reyna informed him. That got Lawrence’s attention.

“Really? Why?” Lawrence asked, surprised.

“I’m sick of Virginia. Well, actually I’m just sick of my sister-in-law. I told Evan that I would watch her, but I think my dear brother will have to just accept that I think it is time to move her into a nursing home.” Aunt Reyna stated.

“Where is has she been living?” 

“At her house that she’s been living in since after her and Evan got married. I’ve also been living there more often after your parents left. After Adam and Maris left, business started to get slow, so I shut it down and decided to go take care of Prudence. But after doing that for over fifteen years, I got sick of the old bat and I miss my magic, and, if I’m being honest here, I’m not going to get any younger. My magic shop was never too successful until Adam started showing interest and ability and things just got better when your mother showed up. I didn't realize just how much those two had stolen the show until after they eloped and business crashed. Your parents were smart. They knew what they were doing when they opened their own business and just look at what your parents built. You should be very proud to carry on their legacy, Lawrence.” 

“I am.” he said, though he was reluctant. Of course he was honoured, but could he handle it? He was only twenty and he still had magic that he needed to learn if he was going to step up into his parents’ footsteps.

“And, so,if you will let me, I would be ever grateful if you would give me a position at Ravensburrow and Evans. I do not have to stay at your house, but I would love a job.” she concluded

Lawrence was silent for a moment as he let everything settle in. He now owned the family business and his old great-great aunt was asking for a job there. He did not know much about her, but he did know that she did have powers. 

“What kind of magic do you do?” he asked. He may as well know if he decides to try to find a position for her.

“I can do quite a few spells, but I believe that I am better with potions.” she assured him.

“I’ll see what I can do.” he finally decided. 

“Thank you so much!” she exclaimed as she suddenly wrapped her arms around him. 

“Whoa,” He stumbled as she pulled him into a tight embrace. 

“Don’t mention it.”

He hoped that he had made the right decision.


	8. Chapter 8

November 2, 2007

This was unbelievable. How could she have let this happen? It was hard enough to know that he was living in the same town as her, now she was going to share her home with a man who knew her no better than any stranger while she knew about everything about him? She was not ready for this. She would never be ready to house her former husband in life when he had no recollection of her. 

She only had about an hour left to prepare. She walked around the great room on the second floor again to make sure that all evidence of Adam had been hidden. She had brought quite a few pictures of him up to the attic yesterday, but she needed to double check and triple check before she could welcome him here. It would be rude, after all, to not allow him up to the actual living area of her home. She was checking the room for the fourth time when she heard a voice echoing throughout the house.

“Shock is requesting access into the shop, Mistress Maris.” it was Byrne alerting her. The door was technically locked at the moment, meaning he would announce to the lady of the house if someone wished to come in. Maris fled to the other end of the house, down the spiral staircase, into her study, to the guest room, before finally running through the downstairs living area into the shop to unlock and open the door to see the mint green witch on the other side. 

“Seriously? It’s like nine or something. I know I’m late, but shouldn’t the door have been unlocked for, like, an hour by now?” she questioned noticing that Maris appeared to be out of breath. Well, she appeared as if she would be out of breath if she could breath at all. 

“Just get in here.” Maris retorted, but Shock wasn’t having it.

“This is the second morning this week that you’ve opened up the shop late, and you’re still on edge.” Shock observed in an amused voice.

“I’m fine.” 

“Lies! A woman is never alright when she says she is fine!” 

“Drop it, Shock.” 

“You’re nervous, aren’t you? Dean moves in today, right? You’re so crushing on him.” 

“Of course not. Speaking of crushing, let’s talk about you and love potions.” 

“Oh shit.” 

“‘Oh shit’ is right. Do you understand how dangerous love potions are? Not only did you manipulate me into making one, but then you decide to use it for a prank? Are you crazy?” Maris was enraged.

“We thought it would be funny.” her apprentice shrugged. The sorceress sighed and covered her face with her hands.

“Just promise me that you won’t mess with love potions again, please.” 

“Fine.” Maris looked up from her hands, “I won’t mess with love potions again, and I won’t ask you to make one for me again.”

“Good. Love potions are very complex potions that can be made many different ways, depending on what you want, and, to be honest, I was never to skilled at making potions. The love potion we made together was probably awful, so it’s a good thing you did not actually slip it into Lock’s drink. There’s no telling what it would have done to him.” Shock looked puzzled at this explanation.

“What do you mean you aren’t good at making potions? You make them all of the time.”

“Yes, but I follow step by step instructions from a potion book. Remember that salve we made the other day? I had to guess what I should put in that since I have no recipe for a potion like that. That’s why it took so long and why we kept messing it up.” 

“Right. So, when Dean gets here we can make him handle all of the potions. He seems to know what he’s doing.” Maris did not answer right away.

“Perhaps we should let him handle potions.” Maris mused, more to herself than to Shock. It was quiet for a moment until something dawned on Maris.

“I gave you a key after you started your apprenticeship, why did you not just unlock the door, yourself?” 

“Oh! Um, well, you see, I, erh, I sortofmaybeforgotwhereIputitlastnight? That’s why I was so late. I just gave up and figured the shop would be unlocked when I got here, so it wouldn’t be a big deal?” Shock finished sheepishly. Maris only glared for a moment. Shock noted that eye had twitched.

“I suggest you start looking once again the second you get home, or so help me I’ll…”

Byrne’s shriek signalled that someone else had entered the shop. The duo turned to see Sally stumble through the doors. 

“The boys won’t be here for about an hour yet. I just wanted to drop by and try to prepare you.” the ragdoll explained rather quickly. 

Maris had a feeling the Pumpkin Queen had ran there. She raised an eyebrow.

“Prepare me for what?” she questioned as Sally appeared to be catching her breath. 

“It’s the townswomen! They’re curious…” the sound of Byrne’s cry and the door creaking on its hinges cut off Sally’s warning as the witch sisters, Helgamine and Zeldaborne, entered the shop, followed up by Carmen, the sea monster, and Mrs. Corpse.

“So, Maris, I hear today’s the day Dean moves in.” Carmen stated though Maris senses that there is an unasked question hidden within. Of course Dean was moving in today. Everyone heard that at the meeting--it was not news.

“That will be quite a change for you, dear.” Zeldaborne observed.

“You haven’t really had much company around here, or many friends.” Helgamine added. Another observation, but it was quite true. Though Maris was friendly with everyone, she was quick to keep to herself. She really did not have many friends in town. She could see how the townswomen would find it odd that a woman, who keeps to herself, would be willing to let a stranger live with her. 

“ I am only doing what I can to support our town.” she answered with a shrug.

“Of course, dear. But don’t you find it odd that of all of the citizens in town Jack chose you? The man’s a demon and you are not.” Helgamine was suspicious. 

“He may be a demon, but he can do magic. He would be a big help around the shop.” Maris shrugged.

“Isn’t that why Shock is here?” Mrs. Corpse questioned, eyeing the young apprentice in distaste. Maris ignored this.

“Nah, I just cause more trouble than I’m worth. It’s a wonder she hasn’t fired me yet.” the young witch contributed as she leaned against the front desk, staring away at nothing in particular as if she were bored out of her mind.

“Yet.” Maris sent a quick glare that one but Shock noticed. 

“You have no worries about letting a strange man you know nothing about move in? Honestly, I can’t believe that Jack has no problem letting a man none of us know live alone with such a lovely young woman. Who knows what could go wrong!” Maris noticed Shock’s sudden amusement in the back of her peripheral vision. Mrs. Corpse turned to Sally, “And you, I can’t believe that you have no issues with this! It isn’t proper for a lady to live with a man she is not married to!” No one noticed that Maris’s eye had twitched, “Now, I beg your pardon, your majesty, but what was that boneheaded husband of yours thinking when he decided to let Dean live with Maris. It just sounds like a disaster waiting to happen!” 

Sally was taken aback by such an accusation. Jack was a smart man and he cared about his citizens. He would never intentionally put a citizen in a bad situation, and it hurt Sally to realize that anyone would think otherwise. The Pumpkin Queen did her best to stammer out a defense for Jack’s decision. Seeing her struggle, Helgamine beat her to it. 

“Now, Debi. I assure you that Jack has thought very carefully over this decision. He would never put Maris in such a dangerous situation as you suggest. I have, personally, talked with Dean many times already, and I don’t see a problem with the living situation as long as Maris is alright with everything.” the women all looked at Maris again.

“I would not have agreed if it bothered me.” Well, if that was not the biggest lie she had ever told. On second thought, she had probably told some bigger lies by omission, but that wasn’t the point.

Carmen smirked, “You’re very lucky to house him. I haven’t been with a man in well, I don’t remember the last time, but it has been a long time. I envy you, Maris. You’ll get to spend every day with him! Doesn’t he just make skin ooze and flesh crawl?” 

“He makes walls fall!” Zeldaborne gushed. 

“Walls fall?” Helgamine retorted, “He makes the very foundations crack!” Everyone, except Maris, missed Shock’s snort as the witches and Carmen went on describing how Dean made them feel, which Maris actually found rather disturbing. 

“It seems they’ve moved on.” Sally whispered to Maris as the women kept chattering away, the witches and Carmen on Dean and Debi saying “Scandalous! It’s scandalous I tell you!” over and over.

“What do you mean?” Maris whispered back. 

“Those three used to talk about Jack that way before we got together.” the ragdoll explained. 

“Isn’t that just a little creepy to you?” 

“Yeah, that’s kind of the point. We’re all creepy here.” Shock whispered. Startling the sorceress and the ragdoll. Neither had noticed when Shock had snuck over by them and had leaned over to join the hushed conversation. Maris was not given the chance to say anything else before the townswomen returned their attention to her. 

“So, Maris, what do you think about Dean?” Carmen asked with fake innocence.

“He seems nice enough and, like I said, he could be really helpful around here.” 

Carmen frowned, “That’s not what I meant. I meant do you find him attractive.” Of course Maris thought he was attractive, but she did not want to admit that outloud, so she decided to use the cop-out. 

“I’m a married woman.” 

“Yes, but your husband is not here now, is he?” Carmen raised a suggestive, scaly eyebrow. 

“No, he isn’t.” Maris admitted. Yet. It was, technically, the truth. 

“Well, I think you should give him a shot. You haven’t had a relationship in a few years, either.” the undersea gal advised. 

“You might as well try to make it work if you must have him live with you, though it would be very improper to board with a man who is courting you.” Debi added. 

“I really don’t want to take up dating again.” Maris responded.

“Why not, dearie? I also think you should give him a chance.” Helgamine insisted.

“You deserve happiness, Maris.” Zeldaborne agreed.

“But I am happy!” she insisted. She felt a soft hand on her shoulder and looked to see Sally. She had almost forgotten that the ragdoll was next to her. 

“Sweetie, you aren’t as good of an actress as you think you are. We can all tell that you have not been truly happy here.” 

“So you and Jack thought that bringing a man into my life would change that? That, suddenly everything would be alright if I remarried? I realize that a relationship completely changed Jack’s outlook on his afterlife, but that won’t work for me. A man won’t fix my problems.” Maris retorted, carefully trying not to snap at the Pumpkin Queen. She was, after all, only trying to help.

“You don’t have to remarry, Maris. You don’t have to do anything you do not wish to do. And I understand that Dean may not fix your problems, but he could help if you let him help you.” Sally concluded. Maris looked into her eyes. No one said anything for a while. 

Sally was right, of course. Knowing Adam, Dean probably would be willing to help. But that, itself, was part of the problem. She missed him, but he did not know her. His willingness to help would only make it worse. 

Maris was not looking forward to Dean moving in. 

“You did say that you missed your family. Maybe you just need to make another one.” now Maris looked over her other shoulder at Shock, who had made the suggestion. Again, she was right. That was exactly what Maris needed, but that was easier said than done. 

“Well, whatever you decide to do, just please at least tell me you have more than one bedroom!” Debi joked, seeming to have given up her cause. The ladies were all still laughing when Byrne shrieked again. 

The townswomen crowding the door hurriedly got out of the way to make room for the new visitors. 

“I am so sorry, ladies! We did not mean to interrupt!” Jack greeted, bending down as to not bonk his head on the entryway. Dean followed behind the Pumpkin King, nodding ‘hello’ to the women in the room as he entered, carrying... a bundle of clothes?

Maris looked Dean over. He had, indeed changed out of the outfit he had arrived in. He was dressed in much more casual attire, a t-shirt and pants that were most likely Sally’s work. The Pumpkin Queen had been busy yesterday.

“Oh, it’s quite alright, Jack! You weren’t interrupting anything at all.” Helgamine answered.

“In fact, we were just about to leave, weren’t we, ladies?” Zeldaborne added. They all agreed before quickly leaving the shop. Jack and Dean watched them go with curiosity before turning back to the three other occupants in the shop. 

“Ah! There you are, dearest! I was wondering where you have run off to!” he moved to rejoin his wife’s side.

“Wait,” the Pumpkin Queen stopped him before he could take her into an embrace, “Jack, who’s watching the children? I was not expecting you to show up here so soon, or I would have gone back home earlier.” she inquired. 

This threw Jack off of his normally cheery mood. 

“Certainly Nicholas is old enough to stay on his own and watch his siblings?” he frowned with uncertainty. He had not seen a problem with leaving them all alone for a few moments.

“And how much would you like to wager that has left the manor to meet up with his friends instead of keeping an eye on his sisters?” Sally questioned, her irritation starting to show. 

“Uh, well, Lyn is surely old enough to watch a toddler for only a couple minutes?” 

“Of course. She has absolutely no experience babysitting and has almost dropped her sister countless times. But you’re right. She can handle a toddler. What could possibly go wrong!” Sally spit back at him. Jack did not know what to say as his wife glared daggers at him. 

“We should go home now.” 

“Damn right we should.” Sally agreed before storming out of the shop. Jack gaped at his wife’s use of such a word. He had not even known that such a colorful word was in her vocabulary! 

The spectators of this little fight were wearing matching expressions. They, too, had not expected their queen to use such language. 

“Good-bye, Maris! It was a pleasure to talk!” she hurriedly called over her shoulder as she left. Jack stared after her for a moment before sheepishly explaining that he should probably follow Sally home. 

Everything was silent for a moment. Maris was floundering to come up with something to say to break the ice as Dean smiles expectantly back at her. 

Shock leaned against the front desk with her arms crossed, waiting to see what would happen next. She had a feeling that things were about to get interesting and she did not want to miss a second of what was to come. She rolled her eyes as the silence stretched on for another minute.

 

“Well, wasn’t that just something else!” Shock suddenly exclaimed. Maris jumped at the abrupt sound. 

“It was, well, interesting to say the least.” Dean answered her, taking his focus off of Maris for a second. Maris let go of a breath she had not known she was holding as the tension was broken. 

“Perhaps I should give you a tour, Dean?” Maris suggested sheepishly. Dean’s eyes turned back to her with the change of subject. 

“Sure! I may as well get a good look at this place if I’m going to live here for an indefinite amount of time.” 

“Great! Let’s go back here, then.” she took the lead, guiding him to the back door that separated the shop from the rest of the house.

“I guess. I’ve worked here for three years and have never seen the living area.” Shock shrugged, getting up to follow the two. 

Maris stopped walking right on front of the door. She looked over her shoulder at her apprentice, who was close behind. 

“Don’t you have a key to look for?” 

Shock froze. Maris watched the witch’s face twist in annoyance before turning around. 

“Don’t come back until you find it!” Maris called after her retreating back. 

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever.” she retorted flipping the bird as she exited the shop. 

“Shall we?” she inquired, opening the door. 

“You’re letting her get away with that?” 

“Oh, don’t worry. She’ll get her punishment.” Maris assured him with a smug look. 

In fact, Shock’s punishment had already started. Maris knew that Shock was on to her. She had figured Shock would want to hang around and watch Maris’s awkward interactions around Dean. As much as Maris did not really want to be alone with Dean, she also did not want an audience whenever she did anything odd around him. She was still embarrassed about how many people had witnessed that fainting spell yesterday. She did not wish to repeat that.   
********

Dean was excited for this tour. Of course, he had seen some of the house yesterday when he had helped Maris to bed, but he had not, exactly, gotten a good look at everything. 

He followed his new roommate through the door, into the familiar little kitchen. Its walls were a drab gray with linoleum flooring and wooden cupboards, table and chairs. There were no pictures or any decorations to give the room any personality. 

“This is a small kitchen. I usually only use this during work hours, so that I won’t have to go back and forth between the shop and my kitchen. Shock and I normally take our lunches in here.” Maris gestured to the appliances: a small refrigerator, a coffee maker, a couple cupboards, a small counter and sink, and the small wooden table with four chairs around it.

“As you can see,” she continued, “It is a pretty basic setup.” 

“No dishwasher?” 

“There’s one upstairs. Trust me, the actual kitchen upstairs is much more equipped than this. This is really more for convenience.” she explained. She almost smiled. 

He was not quite ready to keep going as Maris began walking again until she approached a wooden door. 

“I’m sure that you remember what’s in here.” 

“That guestroom that you use too often?” she spun on her heel, ready to fire back a retort, but no words came out. 

He smirked as she struggled to come up with a response.

“Maybe.” she muttered under her breath as she pushed the door open. 

Dean entered behind her into the small bedroom. It looked a bit different than it had the day before. He could tell that she had cleaned up in here yesterday, or, possibly, this morning. The bed was now neatly made. The white carpet had been vacuumed and if he was not mistaken, she had dusted as well. 

“You took the time to clean all of this?” 

“I didn’t do that much. I only washed the sheets, made the bed, and did some basic cleaning.” 

“You didn’t have to do all of that! I could have done that or helped you, or…” 

“Dean, you’re my guest. I’m not going to make you do all of my work for me.” 

“Am I really a guest, though? You know what Jack said; I’ll be staying here for an indefinite amount of time.” He watched the gears in her head turn as she calculated a response.

“I guess it is a good thing that you have no qualms with cleaning this room because this is where you’ll be sleeping while you stay here indefinitely.” She replied slowly. 

“Well, you won’t have any problems waking me up if I oversleep, since my room will be on the way to the shop.” Dean noticed Maris stiffen at the comment. 

Had she not thought of that? He quickly scanned the room for exits. There was the door that he knew led to the study, closed closet doors, and the door they had entered through. He was right. If anyone wanted to cross from the study into the small kitchen, they would have to cross through his room. 

“I’ll be as quiet as possibly if I ever find myself in that situation.” 

“How conscientious of you!” this time she did smile. She pointed to the closed closet he had already noticed.

“There is your closet. You can hang up any clothes you have in there.” 

They both looked down at the clothes in his hands. 

“I’ll just leave this on the bed and take care of it later. Let’s move on.” 

“Alright then,” she nodded, “I’ll show you the private study. Again.” 

“Please do.” 

Not much later, the pair made their way up the spiral staircase, to the second floor, after taking a look at the study. 

Dean had wanted to look around the study longer, but Maris assured him that he had plenty of time for that later. He reluctantly followed her up, knowing that she was right, after all. 

The red hallway greeted them at the top of the stairs. Maris led him down the hall, quickly reminding him about the first room on her right; her bedroom. The reminder was unnecessary. Dean still remembered the purple room from yesterday. 

Maris pointed out that the next door down was a bathroom before continuing on to where the red hall opened up into one, wide room. 

“Here’s the real kitchen.” she nodded to the vast space before them.

Dean could not believe the size of the room. The difference between this and the tiny little thing was a little jarring, with dozens of wooden cabinets and drawers. She had plenty of granite countertop space, even a chandelier that hung above the granite island. And the dishwasher.

“How can you use that small space downstairs when you have this right upstairs?” 

“I honestly don’t know. I don’t even cook in this area too often.” she shrugged. Dean couldn’t believe it. How could she not take advantage of this space?

“Seriously? Why not?” 

“I’m exhausted by the end of day, usually, so I don’t take the time. I’m already dead, anyway, it’s not like I’ll starve.” 

“But how can you not use this incredible space?”

“Moving on! Here is the living room!” Maris announced, moving on. He huffed and walked after her a few paces to look at the rest of the great room. 

He whistled at the sight of the room. It was as impressive as the rest of the upstairs. A fireplace with no fire stood at the end of the room. There was a couch and two chairs for lounging or resting, rugs for a break from the hardwood floors that stretched the entire length of the great room, and a piano off to the side of the room. There were many windows, letting natural light into the room and offering a view of the town. 

“I did not realize how successful the magic business in here.” he mused.

“What do you mean?” he turned to his hostess.

“Well, I don’t really want to pry into your finances, but you must make good money in order to afford something like this.” he gestured to the entire house.

“Oh, not really. But Jack is willing to provide quite a lot if you only ask.” 

“Really?”

“Yeah, what’s wrong with that?”

“Is there really a purpose for money in this town if there are quite a bit of extra resources available?”

“No, but money does provide a sense of providing for yourself. And business is necessary for giving someone a purpose. We don’t prepare for next Halloween every single second of everyday. At least, not everyone does.” Maris explained. 

Dean walked around the room, taking in his surroundings. He was not sure where to start. He noticed an outline of a rectangle that stood out among the plaster of the ceiling. 

“What’s in the attic?” he questioned. He could not imagine that Maris would need an attic for storage when she was the house’s only occupant. Then again, maybe she did need the storage. 

“Stay out of the attic.” 

It was a command, not an answer. Was there something in there just as he had thought?

Dean was a bit startled at the sudden demand. What could possibly be in there that would upset her if he knew about it? Was she hiding something? 

Maris shook her head. 

“Sorry, I didn't mean for that to come out like that. The floor up there is rather unstable and not completely safe to walk on. It is best if you stay out of the attic. Not that there is really anything to see up there anyway.” 

“Oh, ok then.” that was fair enough. 

With the attic forgotten, Dean went back to observing the room he was in. There was something a little different about Maris’s home than the Skellington’s place, but he couldn’t quite grasp what it was that was bugging him. He looked at the mantle and the pictures sitting upon it. 

Wait, Maris had pictures?

Dean crossed the room to look at them closer. There was one with many...twelve people dressed nicely and smiling for the camera. The matriarch and patriarch sat in the front, while the other ten had split into two lines. The five younger children kneeling behind their parents and the five older siblings standing behind them. The man had light sandy hair and green eyes while his wife was blond with blue eyes. The children behind them shared some combination of this. As he looked at each of the children, he realized what had intrigued him about the photo. Behind the father stood two girls, who looked to be about twelve and ten, with dark colored hair. Both appeared quite a bit paler than the rest. One girl had blue eyes like the woman, but the girl on the left had amber eyes that looked quite familiar. It only took a moment for it all to click. The amber eyed girl was Maris. This was a picture of Maris with her family. 

“What are you looking at?” Dean looked up from the photo to see Maris rush over to where he was standing to see what he was looking at. She looked...afraid? Of what?

“Just this picture of your family.” she appeared to have let go of a breath she had been holding.

“Yep. The house was always crowded.” she joked, but he was not sure if it truly was a joke. She did not act like she found the statement funny. 

“I would have loved to grow up in a family like that.” He meant it. Dean may not remember anything from before Halloween night, but he would love to have all of the siblings hanging around him and loving parents like the ones in the photo. 

He moved on to another photo. In this one Maris was older, probably in her early twenties. She stood on a beach in her bathing suit and appeared to have been laughing shortly before the picture was taken. She had her arm wrapped around another girl, who smiling widely. He was almost certain that she was the same girl from the last photo. 

He picked up the photo to look at it closer. There was a date printed at the bottom of the picture; July 18, 1991. 

“That’s me and my younger sister, Eleanor.” Dean looked up at Maris, who was staring intently at the photo. A ghost of a smile graced her lips as she observed the picture. He scanned the rest of the photos. There were some more with what looked like her other siblings, but the majority looked like Maris and Eleanor.

“You were close to your sister.”

“Yeah. I miss her every day.”

“What about the rest of your family?” Maris did not answer right away. 

“Sometimes.” Sometimes? What did that mean? What had happened between her and the rest of her family that she would not miss them?

He was brought out of his thoughts as the sound of music sifting across the room distracted him. He looked to see Maris, sitting with her back to him playing random notes and chords on the piano. He had not even noticed that she had left. 

“This is a lovely piano.” he stated, watching as her curled fingers played another chord. 

“It is, isn’t it. I mentioned once to Sally that I used to play and, suddenly, Jack came over on my first birthday after arriving here, dragging this sucker over.” Maris laughed at the memory.

“I’m sure it was tricky to get it up here.”

“Oh yeah, it was a pain in the ass carrying this beauty up here. Even with magic. But it was all worth it.” she smiles at the instrument, and stroked it as if it were a pet. 

Dean chuckled at the mental image of Jack and Maris pushing a baby grand up the spiral staircase. 

“Okay! I think I finally decided what I’m going to play for you, Gerald Dean.” Maris exclaimed, cracking her knuckles. 

“Please, just call me Dean. Gerald is not necessary.” he insisted. 

“Really? Then why didn’t you just say that your name is Dean?”

“Because my name is Gerald Dean. I just know it is. Do you have a problem with the name ‘Gerald Dean’ or something?”

“Yes, actually, I hate your name. It doesn’t fit you at all.” she stated matter-of-factly.

“What would you name me instead?” he challenged. Maris opened her mouth to say something, but seemed to have thought better of it and not say anything. 

“Anyway, I’m dedicating this performance to you, to commemorate your death.” 

“You don’t have to…”

“Oh, come on! It’s just for fun!” she waved him off. 

“Take it away, maestro.” Maris nodded. She took a deep breath and poised her fingers over the keys. The silence stretched as he waited for the performance to begin. 

She played a chord. It was slightly ominous and hung in the air for a moment before she continued on to play a quiet, haunting melody. It was a somewhat familiar melody, but Dean could not remember where he had heard it before. 

Then again, he couldn’t remember anything from before a day ago. 

The melody repeated again, but this time it had gained a little speed and volume until it suddenly tapered off to almost silence. He watched Maris’s intense focus on her fingers as her right hand slowly made its way up the keys and her left played accompanying chords. He listened as the soft, flowing melody crescendoed before she backed off, once again, only to bang on the keys a few seconds later. 

The mournful melody continued like this for a few moments until it built up into a new intensity and speed. Just when he thought that the melody would possibly collapse onto itself, the tension dissipated one last time to a smooth, somber sound before ending on its final chord. It was a different chord from the rest of the song. It had sounded almost...happy, as if the sun had peaked out of the gloomy clouds at the last second. 

And then he remembered the song. 

“That was Mozart, wasn’t it? You played me a requiem” the question broke Maris out of whatever trance she had fallen into while playing the requiem. 

She nodded, but did not look up from the keys. Her fingers were still touching the keys.

“Lacrimosa. I played you a requiem to commemorate your death.” 

“But why a requiem? Requiems are for mourning. I may have died, but I have a new life now.” 

“What did you think of the last note in the song?” He knew she was talking about the chord at the end that he thought had sounded happy. When he did not answer right away, she did it for him.

“The way I see it, Lacrimosa is a lament. But that last chord? That last chord is the light at the end of the tunnel. It is hope that the pain will go away, that things will get better.” She appeared to be in deep thought as she gave this observation. 

“You’re a very musical person, aren’t you?”

“I’m not, honestly. I really only know a couple classical songs that I used to play with my sisters. My mother insisted that I take piano lessons, and though there are a few classical songs that I love, it is not even close to being my genre of choice.” she clarified. 

“Yeah, you look more like a Guns N’ Roses girl to me.” he laughed. He did not even know what about Maris had led him to believe this. 

Maris looked at him sharply. Her eyes widened in surprise and suspicion. Her mouth hung open as she began to say something. 

Byrne’s shriek interrupted whatever she was about to say.

“I found it! It took me almost an hour and I had the boys tearing the treehouse upside down, but I did it! Maris? Dean? Does a tour of this place really take this long?” Shock’s question floated up to the two from the front door.

Maris stood up from the bench and bolted out of the room, all hints of the suspicion she had shown were gone just as quickly as they came.

“And that concludes our tour!” she announced as she left him to stand at the piano alone. 

Dean reflected back on that last conversation he had just had. She was taken aback by his statement. For a second she almost looked afraid, disturbed even, and then she had immediately taken Shock’s entrance as an excuse to get away from him.

“Was it something I said?” He wondered to himself as he watched her rush out of the room.


	9. Chapter 9

November 5, 2007 

Monday morning had arrived too early for Lawrence as he parked his car in front of Ravensburrow and Evans. It was his first day back at work since his father’s death. 

And his first day as the owner of Ravensburrow and Evans: Spells and Potions. 

Lawrence wasn’t sure if he was ready to run the company on his own. He was only twenty years old, after all. Most twenty year olds were still in school, pursuing an education in order to start their careers and make a name out of themselves. Some twenty year olds were in school with no plans or ideas in mind for their futures. Other twenty year olds started working right after high school, or did not even finish high school. 

Other twenty year olds started a business and then counted down the days until their girlfriend’s eighteenth birthday, so that they could get married and she could help run what would become the family business. 

That’s what Lawrence’s father had done when he was twenty. 

This thought process made Lawrence feel guilty about his hesitancy to take over the company. He knew what his parents had sacrificed at such a young age to build this legacy that they had left behind for him, and it was time to face it head on. It was time for him to follow in his parents’ footsteps and make them proud. 

Lawrence took a deep breath and opened the car door. It was time. He got out and faced the building.

From the outside, the gray building that made up Ravensburrow and Evans was not impressive. It was a short little building on Avery Street, nestled between a bakery and a woodcrafts store. The typical small town stuff. 

The inside, on the other hand, was impressive. Lawrence opened the door to display the high vaulted ceiling, lined with large, framed photographs, boasting Ravensburrow and Evans’s talented Specialists. There were grand bannisters that lead to the offices and rooms upstairs. Wrought iron chandeliers were suspended from the ceiling, holding realistic, but fake, candles that lit the room up a bit, but the lobby’s more useful light came from the floor to ceiling windows that lined both the left and right wall.

It was always fun to stand in the lobby and wait for first-time customers to gasp at the surprise in store for them, muttering about how ‘it’s bigger on the inside.’ The size of the inside of the shop still took even his breath away each time he walked in. 

It was one of the advantages of working with many talented witches, wizards, sorcerers, or whatever they decided to call themselves. The titles seemed to be interchangeable. 

“You’re late.” A thick Jersey accented voice spoke. It was not a question. Lawrence looked across the room to see Natasha behind her front desk. She was looking up at him from behind her computer screen with a bored expression on her face. Her long, hot pink nails click-clacked against the wooden desk instead of her keys as she stared at him in disinterest. 

“I had trouble getting out of bed this morning.” Lawrence shrugged. 

“Your aunt had no problem getting in here on time, Mr. Boss Man.” Lawrence winced. Natasha rolled her eyes and started shuffling through papers on her desk. 

“Here’s your schedule for the day, Lawrence.” she handed him a paper, which Lawrence looked over quickly and was happy to note that he should not be expecting anyone for at least an hour.

“Thanks, Natasha.” He turned to head up the staircase that would lead to his new office. 

“Oh, Lawrence?”

“Yeah?”

“Your 4:20 appointment is already waiting for you upstairs.” Natasha smirked as if she had said something clever. She was not as clever as she would like to think.

“Thanks, Natasha.” he grimaced before he left for the stairs without looking back. He wasn’t in the mood for this.

****

The key did not want to slide into the lock. Lawrence rolled his eyes and pushed the key in harder, but it wouldn’t budge. 

What the hell is wrong with this stupid key?

He tried again and again before sighing loudly. Why was this happening today? It was his first day in charge of the company and not only was he late, he couldn’t unlock his own office door. 

“Is everything alright, Lawrence?” a soft voice inquired. He snapped his gaze to see who was speaking to him. It was only Jen from the Divination Department. Jen looked more like she belonged in a library shelving books than she an intern of the Divination Department. 

“Yeah, I’m fine.” he fought to keep his irritation out of his voice. Jen did not deserve his irritation. She was only being friendly.

“Have you tried flipping the key around to make sure you are putting it in the right way?” she asked, wringing her hands together.

“Of course I’m putting it in the right way!” It was getting harder to keep the annoyance down. Jen shrank away, her eyes widening at the sudden outburst. She schooled herself and offered a small, almost teasing smile. 

“Maybe you should check again.” 

Lawrence rolled his eyes and pulled the key out of the lock to show Jen, that he was doing it the right way.

“See? I’m holding it the right way...wait.” Jen’s smile grew as Lawrence looked closer at the key to see that he was, in fact, holding it upside down. He froze, embarrassed and unsure what to do as Jen kept smiling as if she were trying to hold back a giggle. 

“I sensed that you would have a hard time today, Lawrence. I only wished to help.” she explained though she didn’t quite meet his gaze.

“Thanks, Jen.” he mumbled as he turned the key around and quickly shoved it into the lock. He couldn’t get out of the hall and into his office quick enough. 

He let out a breath, sagging against the door and shutting his eyes once he had shut himself inside. He had never been so embarrassed. 

“Wow, rough day already? You haven’t even gotten started yet, kid!” His eyes immediately shot open. Sam. She was sitting in his chair with her ankles crossed on top of his desk and her hands folded behind her head. 

Your 4:20 appointment is already waiting for you upstairs. He had already forgotten, yet here she was. She was as beautiful as ever as she lounged in his chair, her long blond hair was fanned out on the fabric of the chair and her combat boots were propped dangerously close to his keyboard. The holes in her jeans stretched over her bent knees and the hem of her gray t-shirt had rid up, exposing her stomach, though her black jacket was helping to cover what it could. Not that she cared if the skin was showing. 

He hadn’t noticed until a moment ago that she had a joint resting in the curl of her lip, a lazy smile on her face. The black eyeliner around her eyes may have amplified the green of her eyes, but it wasn’t necessary to show off what he had already noticed in them. 

He really should have smelled her before he saw her.

“I can’t believe you brought weed in here.” A half-hearted statement. Neither would actually believe that she would not sneak a joint into a place of business.

“Who was that outside, babe?” 

“Oh, just Jen checking in on me. She had a feeling that I might be having a hard time.” Sam snorted. 

“Doesn’t take a psychic to see that.” 

“Is that jealousy I hear?” he questioned, suddenly amused. The dread that had been clinging to him like a wet pair of jeans seemed to slip away as he crossed the room to take a seat opposite of Sam. He internally scolded himself. You have to talk to her! Don’t let her charm you into a good mood so easily! 

“Oh, please. I don’t have to worry about that. She isn’t your type.”

“I wasn’t aware that I had a type.” he didn’t notice how he had leaned toward her slightly. Stupid, stupid!

“You do.” she nodded assuringly.

“And what would my type of girl be?”

“Me.” Now Lawrence rolled his eyes.

“Really?” He made no attempt to hide his sarcasm.

“Yeah, babe,” she grinned and removed her feet from the desk and scootched the chair closer, “we only have eyes for each other. If we ever split, you wouldn’t be able to ever forget me or move on to someone else.”

“You’re pretty damn full of yourself today, Sam.”

“Don’t worry. I’ve saved room for you. There’s always room for you, babe.” now she was leaning over the desk. The neckline of her t-shirt had bunched, showing off a little cleavage. Normally, that would have done him in. He should not have even flirted with her this much. He had been wanting to talk to her for days. He couldn’t lose his chance now that he was with her.

“You missed my dad’s funeral.” Her eyes snapped from his lips and her good mood evaporated. She sighed as she pulled away, wincing.

“Look, I’m sorry that I wasn’t there, okay? I get that this is one of the worst weeks of your life, dude, but I can’t just drop everything to be with you. I have my own responsibilities to handle, too.”

“You were hungover that day, weren’t you?” she hesitated one beat to long, averting her gaze. Lawrence sighed loudly.

“I respect that you make your own life choices, but you have to stop. You aren’t even old enough to drink!”

“It was Halloween.” but he could hear that her heart wasn’t in it. It was a half assed excuse and she knew it. “You’re right.” she whispered defeatedly, hanging her head. 

Lawrence’s stomach clenched as he heard her confession. He wanted to reach out and hold her hand, caress her cheek, do something. 

Not yet. I’m not done yet.

“I thought you would always be there for me in the same way that I’ve always been there for you. Now I don’t know what to think.” Her head snapped up, eyes wide.

“Lawrence, I know I messed up, but I promise that I will always be there for you.”

“But you’ve already broken that promise!”

“That’s why I’m here now! I want to make it up to you for not being there right away like I should have been. You have to trust me when I say that I feel awful about how I acted that night, but I didn’t want to face you or your family at the funeral when I felt like shit. A hungover girlfriend doesn’t make the best impression.”

“A missing girlfriend doesn’t make a good impression, either.” only there was no malice in the comment now, and Sam picked up on it.

“I’m not missing anymore, though, am I.” she smiled, and Lawrence felt the corners of his mouth twitch upwards as well. This was why he had wanted to talk to her. No matter how bad things were, Sam always found a way to make him smile. 

“There it is! There’s that smile I love!” one time she had told him that she would make it her goal to make him smile so much that his face got stuck that way so that she could see it on him forever. 

“It feels good to smile again.” he admitted to her. 

“How’s Millie holding up?” 

“Surprisingly well.” Sam raised an eyebrow.

“Her faith?”

“Yeah, believing in God seems to be helping her cope a lot.” 

“Ok, that’s good.” she nodded, “And you?”

“Not so well.”

“Your lack of faith?”

“No, you know that I believe in God.”

“You believe that God exists, but you don’t love him like your sister and your dad do.” she amended.

“Close enough.”

“That’s understandable, though.”

“I guess.” They sat in silence.

“So what are you going to do now?”

“I have an hour before my next appointment.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“What did you mean?”

“You own a company now. A big company. How are you going to handle that?”

“I don’t know.”

“You should have gone to college to major in Business.”

“I dropped out of college.”

“I know. You can always go back and take some business classes.”

“Maybe I should have just changed my major from Chemistry to Business.”

“Yeah, I don’t know why you wanted to major in chemistry, anyway. You don’t have your dad’s passion or skill for it.” he wanted to fight her, give her a reason for his choices, but the words froze up in his throat. She was right, after all. 

“But I don’t have that kind of time, Sam. I need to know how to keep employees in line and keep the business from losing money now.”

“That’s another thing I wanted to talk to you about.”

“What?”

“I was thinking that maybe I should apply and take business classes at the community college.” 

“You would do that?” he asked, incredulously.

“I told you that I would always be there to help you. I thought that that would be a good way to start.”

“What about your own education?” 

“There’s nothing out there that interests me.”

“So scraping by as a waitress is a great alternative.” She feigned a dark look.

“Watch it, kid. I’m saving your ass here.” He couldn’t help it. He laughed at that. 

“I appreciate the sentiment, really. But you flunked out of high school. How do you expect to pass college?”

“This is different.” she was dead serious. It frightened him. She had never taken education seriously.

“How?”

“Because now I have a purpose, a goal. In high school I didn’t give a fuck about my classes or grades, but you?” she trailed off, a far away look in her eyes. He reached out and softly laid a hand over one of hers across the desk.

“Me?” he prompted. She met his eyes with a look that pierced through his soul, making his heart clench in his chest.

“I would do anything for you and your family, our family.” He drank in that look in her eyes, those words she had spoken. He wished he could capture this rare moment forever, so that he could replay it every day. 

“I don’t know what to say.” He finally responded because he believed her. Sam had an unattainable determination. If she said that she would do this for him, then she would. He had confessed his love to her before, and she had returned it, but this felt different, deeper than any confession he could speak. She shrugged as if what she had said was not a big deal.

“It’s too late to take any classes this fall. I would have to wait until the spring semester.” he felt his growing hope shatter.

“What will we do until then?”

“I don’t know.” Lawrence gathered his face in his hands.

“I don’t want to destroy this company.” He felt her hand on his back, rubbing slow patterns. He leaned into her, soaking in any comfort he could get. 

“You won’t. We’ll find a way.” He wanted to believe her so badly.


	10. Chapter 10

November 10, 2007

The pumpkin sun had not yet risen when Maris dragged herself out of bed that morning. It was Saturday and Maris had been busy all week, but she couldn’t rest quite yet. Not many citizens worked on Saturday, which made it a great opportunity to stay open. 

It’s not like she had anything else to do. 

At least, not before Dean moved in. Now that he was here maybe she should consider closing on Saturday, or at least waiting until 10:00 a.m. to open. She hadn’t had the opportunity to show him around the Town Square or introduce him to the residents of Halloween Town, which was rather ridiculous considering that he had been here for over a week already. 

Maris sighed as she began to dress in her normal attire just as she did every other day. That’s all it was anyway, just another day of business. She quickly tied her hair up before leaving her room. 

She froze once she opened the door at the end of the hallway. A warm, delicious smell was wafting up from the downstairs kitchen. Maris was instantly curious. Dean had asked her about food one morning and Maris could not have helped the guilt that had swelled up in the pit of her stomach when he had made it clear that he was hungry and she had not offered him anything. The citizens of Halloween Town did not, necessarily, need to eat since they could no longer starve due to being dead and all, but that did not mean that they couldn’t get hungry. 

Maris had then sheepishly admitted that she did not eat too often, but offered to take a look around the kitchen to see what she could find for him. Ever since Dean’s arrival, she had made an effort to put something together for him three times a day each day. But this was different. This time he’d made something himself, and wafting smell made her all too aware of her empty stomach. 

She descended the stairs and entered the small kitchen through her study just as she always did every other day to see him at the stove scooping omelettes onto plates. 

“Good morning,” he said as he placed their breakfast on the small table. 

“What’s all this?” Maris stared skeptically at the eggs in front of her. 

“Breakfast,” Dean said as he sat down and began to dig into his omelet. 

“You made breakfast?” 

“Yep.”

“Oh, well, thank you,” she gave a smile, “I’m sorry I’ve been a little busy and haven’t gotten a chance to show you around town or introduce you to all of the citizens.” 

“That’s all right. I have plenty of time to meet them. You know, being dead and all.” 

“Right. Of course.” 

“Are you going to eat your breakfast?” he questioned, gesturing to Maris’s untouched plate. 

“Oh! Yes, this looks great.” she declared, as she took a seat, grabbed a fork, and cut into the omelet. She shoved a forkful into her mouth and swallowed. To Dean’s delight her face instantly lit up. 

“This is really good!” she exclaimed, taking another bite. 

“I’m glad you like it! It’s my specialty. Well, I think it is. I don’t really remember.” 

Maris chuckled through her mouthful of eggs, coughing as she swallowed. “Are you all right?” he asked as her coughing continued after she had choked down the bite. 

“Yes, I think so. There’s something odd about these eggs.” she stated, continuing to cough. There was an odd, persistent itch tickling the back of her throat. 

“I can’t imagine what could be wrong with them.” he stated, his eyebrow creased with concern. 

The itching was not subsiding, in fact it was mounting into more of a burning sensation, a fire from her throat and into her lungs. It was as if the inside of her body had burst into flames. She panicked and choked on the smoke burning in her lungs, which billowed out with each gasp. 

This was not good. She was running out of air; something that should be impossible. The room began to spin as smoke and fire continued to scorch her insides. She felt more and more light headed with each passing second.

Through it all she could not hear Dean calling out to her at the sight of smoke nor did she hear him bolt from the room when she became so dizzy that she fell out of her chair. 

What was this? Why was this even happening? For the first time in a long time Maris was genuinely afraid. She could no longer physically die and yet here she was; burning from the inside out, choking on her own ashes. Maybe she couldn't die anymore but perhaps she had stumbled onto something worse than death itself. 

Black spots began to crowd her vision as she labored harder for each breath. Any moment now the smoke alarm would be triggered by the dark plumes she coughed up. She could feel herself fading away as her vision continued to darken and her insides with fire. 

Then Dean was back with a glass containing a mysterious liquid. He hovered over her as he supported the back of her head, pushed the glass between her lips, and tipped it down her throat. 

“That’s it. Drink it all up.” he chided. He sounded so far away. She did her best not to choke on the potion as she downed it as fast as possible. The relief was almost instant as it rushed down her throat, quenching the unbearable flames. Maris coughed the last of the smoke out of her lungs as the potion reduced the internal burning. She could feel her body temperature lowering to a more natural degree as her breathing became more regular. 

She slumped over exhausted from the fight against the raging fire. Dean remained crouched beside her. 

“Thank you.” she croaked, her voice hoarse from the ordeal. 

“What was that?” he asked incredulously. Maris shook her head, bewildered. 

“I don't know. I’ve never experienced anything like that before.” Maris trailed off as an idea came to her, “What did you put in that omelette?” Dean shrugged. 

“Only the usual: eggs, ham, cheese, and spinach. Oh and just a little salt for a little flavor.” Maris straightened up and looked him in the eye. 

“Salt!?” 

“Yeah, salt. It’s used to flavor things, and I thought it would be great in the omelettes. I don't want to sound ungrateful or anything, but you don't put much flavor in your food.” Maris hid her face in her hand and sighed. 

“I’m sorry. I didn't mean to offend your cooking…”

“No, no. It’s ok. You didn't know.”

“That you prefer bland food?” he quirked an eyebrow.

“That I’m allergic to salt.” Dean was silent for a moment. 

“I didn't know people could be allergic to salt.” It was only then that Maris realized just how closely they were sitting next to each other. She climbed off of the floor and dusted herself off. It’s not him. He doesn’t know you. He didn’t even know about your salt allergy. 

“I’m sure it’s very rare, but I’ve been allergic all my life.” She strolled over to the cupboard to get a clean glass. Noticing that he was being left behind on the floor, Dean clambered off the floor and returned to his seat. Maris may not be touching her plate anytime soon, but that didn’t mean he had to stop. 

“But how does that work? Salt is in a lot of things.” Maris paused, glass in hand, to contemplate the best response. 

“Perhaps “allergic” isn’t quite right. It’s more of an... intolerance. Small amounts of salt may burn a little in my throat or have no effect at all, but if I eat things with a larger amount of salt, the symptoms are a bit more...irritating as you just witnessed.” she responded as she turned on the faucet to fill the glass. She could feel the remnants of the burning and her throat was screaming to be rehydrated, even after Dean’s potion. 

“Irritated? I thought you were going to die!” 

“How can I die when I’m already dead?” she answered nonchalantly. But it was a good question as she wasn’t so sure, herself, if things could have gotten worse. 

“But you said that you’ve never experienced something like that.” Dean pointed out. This also stumped Maris a little. She turned the faucet off and returned to her seat. The cursed plate of eggs was sitting right where she left it. 

“Yes, I’ve never had a reaction that bad before, but it probably doesn’t help that it’s been years and years since I have eaten anything with more than a tiny bit of salt in it.” 

“That must have made it hard for your mother to accommodate.” Maris took a long sip of water. 

“Not really,” The statement conjured many memories. It became clear at a very young age that salt had an effect on Maris, but despite the proof, her mother changed nothing. There were many dinners, where Maris would down glass after glass of water to flush out the salt that itched and burned at her throat, “Though what I find curious is the fact that just a little salt in an omelette was enough to trigger my allergy. It should have only caused a little burning at most.” 

“Perhaps since you can’t die your allergy becomes more extreme instead of killing you?” 

“Possible,” she pondered the suggestion for a minute, “just how much salt did you use?” Maris hadn’t planned on asking the question. Adam had been great at judging how much of an ingredient should be added to a potion or a stew. Considering Dean’s current track record, it would be odd for him to use an abnormal amount. His sudden sheepish smile then became a surprise. 

“Well, I didn’t mean to use more than a teaspoon, but, well, the salt poured out faster than I anticipated?” Maris raised an eyebrow. 

“So, much more than a teaspoon.”

“Quite a few teaspoons.” 

“It’s a wonder you can still enjoy those eggs with that much salt.” she shook her head and pushed her plate towards him as he cleaned off his own. 

“Oh, no thanks. I don’t think I can finish that.” Maris got up from the table to retreat to the front desk. 

“Then you can save it for later if you like. I won’t be touching it anytime soon.” 

*******************************************************

Maris sat behind the massive desk, leafing through the pages of her spellbook. The shop entrance was now unlocked and she was open for business━not that any citizens had noticed yet. 

It didn’t matter; business always tended to be either slower or faster on Saturdays. Looks like this one would drag. Maris didn’t care which. A faster day meant getting to use her power and skills to help people and slow days meant she had time to read through her spellbook, journals on magic, or whatever book she had hoarded away in her private study. It’s what she would be doing if she had decided not to open up at all that day. 

She stopped flipping through the pages. Here it is; the potion she’d been looking for. Years and years ago Adam had figured out a concoction that greatly decreased her salt intolerance and it worked wonders. She had been fine with going back to avoiding salt ever since her death, but she didn’t want a repeat of breakfast again. 

Maris had forgotten how good salted food could be. Truly, the omelette had been incredible until it started burning her insides. She had a feeling that Dean had used the same recipe that Adam had used, and she was also sure that it was one of the recipes that he wrote into her spellbook that one time she let him write in a few things while she supervised to make sure he didn’t look at any of the book’s other contents. Her success was short lived as she took a closer look at the recipe.

The heading made it clear that she had found what she was looking for. Big block letters spelled out “Salt Intolerance Serum” but the writing underneath were indecipherable symbols. At the bottom of the page in clear writing was a note, “have fun, darling!” 

Maris let out a frustrated sigh. It was a game they used to play sometimes when one of them came up with something interesting. She would enchant the new incantation to make it difficult to use an he would write out a new potion in a code. From the looks of it, he had not decided to go easy on her, either. This would take a while to decode. 

You could just ask Dean what he used to heal you. Her mind chastised. Maris knew this was true. He had recreated the serum from memory after all, why couldn’t she just ask him? 

“You’re working?” Maris jerked up from her seat. She hadn’t heard him come in from the back, but there he was, casually leaning against the door that led into the back. 

“Yes, that’s what we do here.” 

“Sure, during the week. But…have you ever noticed that you’re the only one working during the weekend?” 

“That’s not true. Jack works all of the time.” 

“That doesn’t count. Jack’s going to work himself to a second death.” Now Maris was more curious than defensive. 

“You’ve been here just over a week. You sound rather confident about Jack’s work ethic.” Dean laughed.

“I was there one day and I watched him and the Mayor run around planning next Halloween the day right after Halloween,” he paused a moment, “although maybe that was more the Mayor being anxious to start than Jack overworking himself.” he mused.

“Perhaps, but don’t be mistaken. Jack’s not much better, and I’ve heard from Sally that once he gets an idea stuck in his head, he’ll fixate on that one thing no matter what it is.”

“Ok, so he’s dedicated to his craft, but he’s the Pumpkin King. What’s your excuse? Are you also just that dedicated to your craft?” 

“Maybe.” he smiled.

“Let’s get out of here.” 

“I beg your pardon?”

“Let’s go into town. C’mon! You promised me you’d show me around to everyone. Now is as good a time as any other.” He held out his arm.

“It’s a lovely day out! And you did promise to take me into town soon.” she had promised hadn’t she? 

“Well, alright then,” she said taking his arm, “first we’ll start with your vocabulary.”

**********************************************

About an hour later Shock found herself sprinting through Town Square to Maris’s Shop. Maris was going to kill her for being so late, and Shock didn’t have a good enough excuse to save her from Maris’s wrath--not that Maris ever found any of her excuses good. 

“I’m here!” she gasped as she burst through the front door, “I’m so sorry. Just kill me now…” Shock couldn’t believe her eyes. The shop was quiet (that wasn’t new) and empty (that was new). 

“Maris?” Shock looked through the shelves that lined the shop. There really weren’t many places to hide in Maris’s shop. At least not as many as the Witches shop had. Man, those had been good times, hiding in the shelves of Helgamine and Zeldabourne’s shop with the boys as they waited for the little explosive to send paint flying everywhere or whatever little ruse they had come up with that time. It didn’t take long for the old crones to tell them they were no longer welcome in the shop. Not that it mattered when they knew how to sneak in through the roof. 

“Dean?” As expected, he was also staying here now, which meant she now had a coworker. Or was he also her boss? No, he was definitely a coworker. Over the last week he had made himself a permanent fixture in the shop, which made it even weirder that no one was here. 

They’re probably finally on a date and didn’t tell me. Shock rolled her eyes as she concluded that there was, in fact, no one here. Well, it’s about time those two talked. It not taken anytime at all for Shock to pick up on the odd tension between them, though she doubted that any of them were aware of it.

She turned on her heel, ready to make the trek back home and complain to the boys how she just wasted her time coming into work, but before she left she decided to leave a note to Maris proving that she had showed up. 

Yeah, that would be good. Then Maris can’t accuse her of being a bad apprentice who doesn’t show up even though she was still late. Shock strolled over to the desk where she knew there would be ink a paper. Maybe she should put the closed sign up too so that no one else tried to come in. Shock smirked at that. That will show her that I’m a good apprentice. She thought as she started writing.

Maris,

If you want me to show up so bad, show up yourself!

Sincerely,

Shock

Perfect. She threw the quill back in the ink jar ready to head out when something on Maris’s desk caught her eye. It was an open spellbook. That in itself wasn’t weird, but there was no mistaking it--it was Maris’s spellbook; the book she always kept away from others. Shock wasn’t allowed to touch it, or read it or anything. Maris claimed it was one of the most powerful spellbooks in the world and that it was her duty to protect it from everyone but herself. It was also the spellbook with the recipe for the love potion Shock had tricked Maris into making for her.

Shock had learned the hard way that it was enchanted to hurt anyone who touched it, and therefore not allowed to be opened by anyone other than Maris a while ago, but when it was wide open it was fair game. This was her chance. 

The young witch scanned the store to make sure no one had snuck in. Upon seeing no one, she approached the door and locked the shop so that she wouldn’t be interrupted. She didn’t need anyone watching her. With this done she took Maris’s seat and gingerly laid a finger on the page, anticipating pain, and putting an immediate end to her plan. Nothing. Shock let out a sigh of relief as she started flipping through the book. 

It was, indeed, a very powerful and strange book. Quick glances at the different spell and potion titles made that clear. It didn’t take too long for her to find what she was looking for. She found the recipe in a chapter on dark magic. That’s an odd chapter for a love potion. She thought, but her satisfaction at finding the spell overrode her curiosity. 

Now she only had to copy down the spell word for word. Shock took another piece of paper and got right to it. She blew on the finished translation, overbeaming with joy. She couldn’t believe it! She thought she’d lost her chance, but now she had a new opportunity. She wasn’t going to waste it again. 

With her mission accomplished, Shock considered leaving, but then another idea struck her. This was a very powerful spellbook, and she would probably never get a chance to look inside it ever again. She decided to go over all of it. 

What felt like about an hour later, Shock was getting bored of the book. It hadn’t taken her long to figure out that the book had many more protections than just on the cover. There were blank pages that were very likely to not actually be blank, spells in languages she had never heard of, and some appeared to be in some sort of indecipherable code. What wasn’t protected wasn’t to earth shattering. Shock was about ready to leave, but something in the back of her brain itched at her to keep going. 

She was soon rewarded. Near the back of the spellbook was a journal. There were many journals all over the shop and in Maris’s study, but this looked much older. Also, this wasn’t some fancy journal like all of the others. This wasn’t bound in cracked leather; it was just a thick spiral notebook. It didn’t seem too promising, but it was odd enough to pique Shock’s curiosity and see what’s written inside. She didn’t further than the front cover before her eyebrows perked up. 

“Holy shit!” She’d hit the jackpot with this one, but didn’t feel like sticking around the shop to read it and risk being caught. Shock tucked her spell into the journal and left for the treehouse. Her afternoon plans were all set.


End file.
